


The Burglaress

by PhantomLass



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Adventure, Bonding, F/M, Family, Girl Bilbo, Prompt Fill, Romance, cuteness, fem bilbo, undecided relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomLass/pseuds/PhantomLass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is in answer to a writing prompt. </p>
<p>Basically what if Bilbo was a girl and Dwalin decided to be her protector through the journey. </p>
<p>Full Prompt is here - http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/6263.html?thread=15806839#t15806839</p>
<p>I have never written from a prompt before so wish me luck :)</p>
<p>The prompt sent the fanfiction goblins crazy in my head. Blame them! :)</p>
<p>Editing of Chapter 1 - 8 ended 30/06/13<br/>Nice new shiny chapter 9 up 01/07/13 :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Dwalin Meets the Lady-Burglar

**Author's Note:**

> Dwalin meets the burglar.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin meets MISS Bilbo Baggins - Burglar
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was initially posted 01/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted 22/05/13
> 
> So I have realised that lots of little things are going to turn into a BIG issue later on - they are taking things in the wrong direction. Does that make sense?

_For some, life changing situations happen in a grand way. The stars align in such a way that no one is under any other impression that this person was meant for greatness. Maybe they were meant to be a grand ruler. To rule over a vast kingdom with wisdom and benevolence. To be loved by one and all. Or perhaps a mighty warrior who could take down an entire army with a handful of brave and faithful men. Who would no doubt win the hand of a fair lady and slay all of her dragons._

_Their adventures seem to begin from the cradle._

_Sonnets and ballads are sung about such ones and their greatness. For there was never any doubt that fate was leading them towards that end. They are the stuff of legend._

_But such was not the tale of one brave soul._

_There was no grand revelation of destiny for poor Bilbo Baggins who found herself thrown into the middle of a story not her own thanks to the meddling ways of a wizard._

_No, although she was not aware of it Miss Baggins' adventure began when she was just sitting down to her supper and there came a knock at the door…_

* * *

Dwalin was no expert on Hobbits. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he had seen one before stepping foot into the Shire (apparently Hobbit folk weren't great travellers). But he had seen enough to know that despite their beardless state there was a clear difference between the males and females of the Hobbit people.

So when the round, port-hole perfect green door opened he was surprised by the clearly female figure wrapped from shoulders to furry feet in a patchwork robe tied firmly at the waist.

After all whoever heard of a lady-burglar?

Actually, whoever heard of a Hobbit-burglar? He certainly hadn't before Gandalf had brought it up.

Dwalin had always thought that Hobbits appeared slight and almost child-like no matter the gender when compared to the more robust and broad frames of his own people. But the figure at the door was definitely female he was sure of it.

Dwalin was struck dumb by this sudden change in events, not knowing how to proceed. How was he supposed to guess that…that…

Giant blue eyes looked up at him from under long lashes and freckles were dusted across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. A long braid of hair – slightly darker than corn – fell over one shoulder to stop just short of her small waist.

Absolutely female!

Gandalf – he knew the wizard wasn't trustworthy, he had told Thorin to be wary of him but had he listened? – had made no mention of the burglar being a woman so Dwalin and the rest of the company had assumed he was a…well….he.

The lass stood staring at him, her eyes wide in her fair face – aye, she was a bonnie little thing even if she didn't have a beard– and he quickly recovered himself, bowing deeply at the waist.

"Dwalin, at your service ma'am,"

He had never been a good judge of the age of peoples who weren't dwarves and experience had taught his to err on the side of caution when addressing others.

The Hobbit blushed and tightened the sash of her robe before a hand went to the edge of the door the other went across her middle to latch onto the fabric of her robe. Dwain knew a defensive move when he saw one and everything in him baulked at the idea that he was making her uncomfortable. A woman should never be made to feel so in her own home.

"Um…Bilbo Baggins at yours," she attempted a little curtsy but only managed a little bob without taking her hands from their places.

Any little bit of hope that the lass was the burglar's wife or daughter fizzled out before it even had the chance to take root.

Dwalin cursed inwardly at the damned wizard for not imparting this little gem of much needed information.

From the look of confusion and nervousness on Miss Baggin's face the poor lass had no idea what he – a rather imposing figure of a dwarf even if he did say so himself – was doing at her door well after sunset. If he had known he would have held off till the morning. Or more as likely never have stepped foot in the Shire in search of Bag-end to begin with as Thorin would never have permitted it.

The poor things knuckles were beginning to go white where she was grasping the door and he could tell from the way she was eyeing up the door and him that she was wondering if she could close the door fast enough before he could make a move to stop her.

He dredged up his long unused manners and set about trying to set the lass at ease.

"My apologies for the lateness of the hour but I was sent by Gandalf,"

He saw the tension leave her shoulders slightly but she frowned at the mention of the wizard.

"Gandalf?" she queried breathing deeply.

"Yes ma'am, He said we were to come along as soon as we could," he nodded his head and tried not to fidget.

She paled.

"We?" she choked.

How was he supposed to tell her about the others when she had clearly been expecting no company to begin with?

"The rest of the company," he answered weakly, wondering if he should divulge the number in the company. He decided against it. The lass looked ready to bolt as it was. Not that he blamed her.

_Can she see my axes?_

_Of course she can._

"Company?" the lass gulped. "Is this to do with the 'adventure' Gandalf mentioned?" he hardly managed an "aye, probably" before she continued "Because I told him no one around here would be interested in such a thing," she shivered, "I was quite clear that Bree would be the best place to look for people wanting to go adventuring, or further across the water, their a funny lot that way,"

The wee Hobbit was beginning to look very upset now but she seemed to pull herself together as one hand slowly dropped from the door and the other lowered from its protective post across her body.

She gave him a small smile. Weak, but a smile all the same and he couldn't believe for a minute that this was the burglar that Gandalf had spoken of.

"I am terribly sorry. This is very rude of me, "she stepped away from the doorway almost as though she was being dragged from it, "Please come in,"

The little thing was nervous of him, the tension still visibly thrumming through her body a testament to that and he made up his mind.

"No thank you ma'am,"

She straightened in surprise, her eyes wide.

"You go along in and I'll wait here for Gandalf and he can sort out this whole mess when he arrives,"

Silence fell between them for a moment as the Hobbit stared at him as though she was trying to figure out if he was being truthful and would actually stay outside.

She blinked and then lowered her gaze before looking at him sheepishly.

"Umm…thank you Mr Dwalin,"

"Just Dwalin," he smiled, dipping slightly at the waist again.

A smile flirted with the corner of her lips and a light danced in her eyes for the first time since she had opened the door. It didn't last long but

" **Mr**  Dwalin," she stressed and he worried that he had offended her – perhaps it was improper for Hobbits to use the first name in such a way so soon after meeting? But the slight glow in her eyes and the smile set him at ease. "Can I…can I at least bring you a drink?" she asked him softly as he backed away from her door, trying to put as much space between them as he could while still at speaking distance.

"Thank you ma'am," he smiled as reassuringly as he knew how and tried to think of something none threatening to ask for.

"Just Bilbo, Mr Dwalin," the faint nervous smile made another appearance and his smile broadened against his will as she seemed to grow more at ease with him now she was reassured he would stay outside.

"Some…" none threatening Dwalin, don't ask for beer. "Tea would be fine, thank you…Miss Bilbo," her eyes twinkled a bit more and he felt ten feet tall.

"Tea it is then," she began to back away into the house and then she froze and began to worry a loose strand of cotton on her robe while glancing behind him left and right.

He quickly realised what the problem was.

"I'll make myself comfortable on one of the steps, don't you worry yourself over that," he rushed to reassure her.

"Are you certain, I can-"

"Yes I am certain,"

The lass continued to stand for a few more seconds, moving from one small furry foot to the other in indecision before she left him with a "I won't be long," and closed the door softly.

Dwalin sighed heavily and looked up at the star-filled sky as though it would provide him with some answers. Nothing was forthcoming.

He did know one thing though.

He was going to be having a long talk with the wizard when he arrived.

* * *

Bilbo shut her door and leaned against it, all the strength draining from her legs and turning her muscles to custard.

_Were they axes that he had on his back?_


	2. Chapter 2 - Bilbo and Balin Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear from Bilbo and Balin meets our burglar.
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you so much everyone for the comments. I was blown away by the response to the first chapter. 
> 
> I hope Ch 2 doesn't disappoint you. I had to re-write it a few times - I just couldn't figure out where to start it. 
> 
> Happy reading. :)
> 
> This chapter was initially posted 06/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted 22/05/13

 Bilbo steadied her still slightly shaking hands against the counter as the kettle began to steam on the hob, seconds away from whistling.

She did not like opening the door after dark – everyone in the Shire knew this, it was true that they thought her a little queer because of it, but they accepted it - but her mother's lessons on manners and hospitality had always been hard to push to the side and had not allowed her to ignore the uninvited visitor at her door.

She had reasoned that it might have been one of the local children as they were always coming around to hear stories of her mother, Belladonna and occasionally they had come after dark only for her to send them away to come back in the morning.

But instead of a wide eyed and eager young Hobbit she had been met with the armoured, axe carrying bulk of the dwarf.

_Dwalin,_ she corrected himself.

And Gandalf the Wizard had sent him to her house. At night. When she was alone. Well, her being alone wasn't much of a change when all was said and done but still you did not invite people to another person's home without telling the 'host'. It just wasn't done. And although Gandalf had mumbled something about 'informing the others' he had said nothing to her about expecting guests.

_Adventure indeed._

She let out a shaky breath.

"Pull yourself together, Bilbo!" she snapped at herself as she reached for one of mugs kept at the back of her odds-and-ends cupboard (Belladonna had always believed in being prepared and Bilbo hadn't had the heart to throw them away) – Dwalin did not look like a cup and saucer person. She made quick work of steeping some tea in the pot and straining the brown liquid into the mug, almost three quarters of the pot vanishing into it.

She stole a look at her still full dinner plate. Bilbo usually didn't eat so much at supper but had lost track of time in the garden and missed several meals during the day. Her stomach grumbled but she pushed the hunger to the back of her head. She had a quasi-guest to see too and her stomach could last a little while longer until she had done so.

She placed the mug on a tray along with a pot of sugar and some milk and lifting the tray headed for the door.

For a spilt second she considered changing out of her robe but thought better of it. It was bad enough that she was keeping someone sitting on her front step – her mother would be spinning in her grave – the least she could do was get him a drink without any further delays.

The always oiled door glided open with little effort and she froze.

She could make out the figure of not just one but two dwarves in the light from the doorway. Their frames were bulky and frightening in the gloom.

A lamp. She would bring a lamp out to the garden as soon as she coul.

Bilbo's throat closed and she had to cough to clear it.

"Um…tea Mr Dwalin," she squeaked and the newest arrivals eyes landed on her.

The sight of this new unknown set her just settled nerves jingling again.

* * *

**(While Bilbo was making tea)**

Dwalin sat down on the top step – still more than a few feet away from the door and hopefully a safe enough distance to make the little creature a little less nervous of his presence near her home. Propping his elbows on his knees and dropping his face into his hands he sighed wearily.

Thorin was not going to happy about this development at all. He already resented the idea of the Hobbit joining the company – even if it was at Gandalf's request and they were desperate for another body – but once he found out that Gandalf was willing to endanger a woman…well it would be back to the beginning again and they would be looking for another fourteenth member.

Dwalin remembered the way her little frame had been dwarfed by the doorway and the way she had looked up at him, her blue eyes wide in her too pale face. Everything about her was small – her being a Hobbit not withstanding – even in the bulky, shapeless robe he could make out her slight shoulders. The wizard must have lost his senses to think that she could be suited for the job of company burglar. How could the old man expect her to face the dangers that they would undoubtedly encounter on their journey to Erebor? Not to mention the risks that could be revealed upon reaching the mountain.

A cold finger tripped down his spine at the thought of any of the company laying senseless, or lifeless on the ground with their blood staining the ground around them…like so many had been at Moria… but everything in his blood rebelled at the very idea of a woman being in such a position.

"Brother, what are you doing skulking and frowning into the dark like a kicked dog," laughed a familiar voice, thoroughly amused, "I have never known you to be nervous about meeting new folk,"

Dwalin's head shot up and he stood at the voice, a smile temporarily clearing the pensive expression from his face. It had been a long time since he had smiled so much in such a short time.

There, several feet from him was his brother, smiling with arms raised high in greeting.

A deep chuckle escaped them both. It had been the same way they had greeted each other since they had turned old enough to go their own ways. A chuckle that said a world of words and yet hardly any. A chuckle that could be boiled down to one sentence 'you are alive and in one piece then I see'.

"By my beard brother, you have grown wider and shorter since last we met," he guffawed.

His brother's face spilt into a grin.

Balin had been blessed with the softer features of their mother, all kindness and friendly eyes.

"Wider. Not shorter," his brother corrected on a laugh.

"And sharp enough for the two of us," he added.

"As always," Dwalin nodded his head. It was the way things had always been. Balin was the scholar and Dwalin the warrior and protector. Of course his brother could swing an axe or sword as well as anyone – as had been proved well enough time after time since Erobor had fallen – but he was most at home among his books and parchments.

"Aye, as always," Balin's eyes twinkled.

Dwalin chortled along with his brother and stepped down the few steps separating them, gripping his slightly shorter brother by the shoulders firmly he looked into his smiling face as Balin gripped just above his elbows.

They clashed heads and released each other.

Dwalin moved out of his brother's line of vision as Balin started to peer over his shoulder at the round green door with its blue glowing sign – courtesy of the company wizard he had no doubt.

"Are we late then?" Balin asked glancing between the door and Dwalin.

Dwalin shook his head.

Balin starred at him.

"Then why are we out here instead of in there," he pointed at the door, "eating the food and drinking the beer the wizard promised us?" he started up the steps for the door and Dwalin quickly stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"The good wizard," Dwalin bit out the words, still planning several ways to de-limb the old coot, "didn't tell us all,"

Balin frowned and Dwalin released his hold now that he was sure his brother wasn't going to further disturb the little Hobbit making tea somewhere in the side of the hill.

" **The he is a she Balin,** " he growled reverting to his mother tongue as he often did when in the presence of his brother.

" **Beg pardon?"** Balin blinked at him.

**"You heard me just fine. Or should I be looking for a horn for you like Oin's?** "

The glow had gone entirely from his brother's face and was quickly draining from his eyes.

" **The burglar is a lass,** " Dwalin clarified as the information sank into his brothers mind.

" **Are you certain? You know how these beardless peoples are, even the menfolk look like women with their smooth faces,** " Balin rushed.

Dwalin merely quirked a brow at this, and was saved from answering by a throat being cleared behind him.

"Um…tea Mr Dwalin,"

Dwalin would have been lying if he said that he didn't feel amused as his brother's eyes widened and they came to rest on the little figure of Miss Bilbo Baggins. He very nearly gave in a laughed as his brother's eye brows travelled further up his forehead.

"I'm sorry, I did not realise there was an…um…other member of your company here,"

Schooling his face he turned from Balin to the Hobbit.

She was standing silhouetted by the light from the open door, holding a tray in her hands and still dressed for bed.

He stepped forward to relieve her of the tray and he noticed that she immediately began to wring her hands together, fidgeting as much as she could while still standing her ground.

"My thanks Miss Bilbo. May I introduce my brother, Balin," Dwalin could hear his brother clearing his throat behind him, being a bit slower to get over the surprise than Dwalin had been.

Balin stepped up beside him.

"At your service Miss Baggins," his brother bowed.

Dwalin felt awkward holding the slight tea-tray in his hands – hands that had held nothing more fragile than a hammer in years – and glanced around for somewhere to put it.

"Bilbo Baggins, sir," she nodded her head and her knees dipped a little before straightening, "at yours,"

He put the tray down carefully onto the stone step. It tilted slightly on the grass that had grown over the stone work but thankfully none of the liquid spilled. His quest accomplished he returned to his brothers side.

Dwalin saw that any head way he had made with the Hobbit had just been washed down the river. Before she had disappeared into her house to make the tea her eyes had twinkled. Now they were wary and darting between them.

"Can I…Can I get you some tea also Master Balin?" she smiled, although it never reached her eyes as it had done.

Silence fell between them and Dwalin groaned inwardly as his brother continued to just stare at the supposed burglar.

"Aye that would be fine Miss Bilbo," he answered for his brother, "Would it not Balin?" he smiled and slapped his brother hard on the back knocking him out of his daze.

"What?" Balin coughed.

"Tea brother," he ground out.

"Oh yes indeed, thank you,"

Bilbo was already backing away to her door.

"Won't be a minute,"

The round green door shut with soft click.

Dwalin glared at his brother. The dwarf could face an Orc army and not balk but a little Hobbit had him frozen to the spot. Of all the times to-

" **That Hobbit is a lass** ," Balin broke the silence his mouth agape.

" **Aye, she is** ,"


	3. The Dwarf Princes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we hear more from Bilbo, Balin and Dwalin.  
> Kili and Fili make an appearance.
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the comments guys! 
> 
> Say hello to an image of Bilbo in her dressing-gown :)
> 
> This chapter was initially posted on 08/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted on 30/06/13

 

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Bilbo once again found herself standing in her kitchen, a newly refilled tea pot in hand, pouring the dark steaming liquid into a mug.

She rushed it out to the newest arrival, who thanked her handsomely – although his eyes still looked as though he had had some sort of shock (she hoped he would make liberal use of the sugar to settle him) - before she rushed back into her hole to finally get changed out of her night clothes and into something more respectable for receiving guests.

But really what could they expect? Showing up at her door in such a way, at a time when most Hobbits where sitting down for their suppers if not actually in their beds already.

She dashed into her room and closed the door. After a moment of thought she slid the bolt home – just in case.

Wasting no more time she quickly raided her wardrobe and drawers. Pulling out the clothes she needed and changing into them with a practiced ease. Her fingers flew over the buttons and laces. She tugged on the dull green fabric of her favourite skirt to get it to sit properly; straightening the waist with a slight wriggle and then the sleeves of her shirt received the same treatment. Happy with the outcome she pulled a heavy shawl from her drawer and draped it over her shoulders. Crossing the ends across her front she tied them together at the base of her back. She settled herself with running a hand over her braided hair and pushing stray ends under the twisted strands. It would have to do.

She was now as presentable as she would get for the time being.

Bilbo forced herself out of her bedroom and back into the kitchen when all she wanted to do was bolt her door against the world and forget all about Gandalf and lost dwarves – because there was no other explanation for them being at her door…they had to be lost. But then she remembered that Gandalf had  _sent_ them…

She pulled out several plates from one of the many cupboards and began to half and butter the scones that had been cooling by the kitchen window since early morning. She had been planning to snack on them the next day but she had visitors now and couldn't leave them without anything to go with their tea. It wouldn't be proper or very hospitable. But then again keeping them stuck outside wasn't terribly welcoming of her either and that was a situation that wasn't going to change until Gandalf made an appearance.

She stole another longing glance at her rapidly cooling dinner and gave it up as a lost cause, settling for half a scone instead. It would be rude of her to sit down and eat her dinner while she had visitors after all.

_Even if they are uninvited._

Once all of the scones were cut in half and buttered on the plate and she had lit a lamp for the garden she once again made the journey to her front door.

What a strange evening this was turning out to be. But then she really should have realised that something would happen, what with Gandalf making a sudden appearance at her garden gate after being gone from the Shire for so long.

She remembered the wizard from years before but the in the vague foggy way that childhood memories have. And that memory was filled with the howling of wolves and the bitter cold of snow. ..

" _I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure,"_

She shivered at the wizards words that echoed around her mind and gripped the plate tighter in her trembling hands.

"… _they make you late for dinner…"_

She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head focusing on the here and now. The past could stay where it was for now.

Bilbo opened the door to find Balin and Dwalin speaking to two more arrivals.

She sighed.

_I think I am going to need more tea._

* * *

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin and Balin fell silent for a while after Balin's initial statement. Dwalin knew that Balin was thinking and he would break the silence when he wanted to and that there would be no point in rushing him.

And that just happened to be when the Hobbit came scuttling out the house and all but thrust a mug into Balin's hands before vanishing back inside just as quickly.

The door shut.

And Balin began.

" _ **That**_ **was a lass** ," Dwalin was beginning to think that his brother had lost some of that sharpness he had been boasting of only minutes before.

" **Yes, I believe we have settled that Balin,** " he rumbled.

He was annoyed that his brothers presence had set the lass on her guard again and wished the wizard would get himself to Bag-end before the Hobbit gave up on her bravery and just bared the door against them. At the very least he hoped Gandalf would arrive before Thorin did…

"I do not believe that she was expecting us," Balin finally spoke a full sentence that didn't include a variation of 'she's a lass'.

Dwalin grunted at his brother's words.

"I don't think that we are the only ones that the wizard withheld information from,"

Dwalin sat back down on the step and took the steaming mug of tea from the tray. He gave the sugar a contemplative look, shrugged, and spooned three large tea-spoons full into the mug. He gave the milk the same look but decided against it, instead he took a tentative sip of the almost scolding drink. Dwalin had never been one for drinking tea – unless it was being forced down his throat by a healer – and he was surprised to find the sweet but slightly bitter liquid not altogether unpleasant. Nothing at all like some of the noxious concoctions poured into him after an injury.

Balin joined him at the tray and poured a generous helping of milk into his own mug.

"Well this is a pretty little mess Gandalf has got us into and that is no mistake," Balin announced almost cheerfully, smacking his lips together appreciatively after taking a drink and lowering himself onto the stop beside Dwalin.

"Aye,"

Silence fell again between them as they sat sipping on their tea, staring out into night.

It was a peaceful place this Bag-end.

You could hear the wee creatures rustling in the hedges and the late birds flapping overhead. And the mumbling of voices.

Voices?

"Mr Balin, Mr Dwalin,"

Dwalin looked towards the gate to see two of the youngest members of the company walking along the wall.

Balin sighed as he stood and Dwalin followed suit. The royal youngsters jostled each other to get in the gate – blonde Fili ultimately giving in and letting his younger brother through first. Dwalin was just glad the gate survived.

"Are we late? Has it been cancelled?" Kili asked in a rush. sounding disappointed at the prospect.

"No lad, nothings been cancelled," Balin reassured him and Dwalin very nearly spat out a mouthful of tea at the wide grin that split the youngster's face. Had he been so eager when he had gone on his first quest? If so he had been disillusioned quickly enough.

"That's a relief," Kili sighed, the smile still firmly fixed in place as he glanced eagerly between Balin and Dwalin.

"There is something we must speak of though. It is about the burglar-"

A beam of light fell from the door and Dwalin groaned inwardly. If his relatively sedate brother made the Hobbit nervous he dreaded to think how she would be when Fili and Kili got started. Thorin's nephews weren't best known for their subtlety.

They all turned towards the door and Dwalin froze for a moment.

The lass had changed her clothes and now that she was no longer in the robe he could see how slight she was. The lines of her small body outlines by the gown and even the shawl did nothing to disguise the fact that she was delicately built. More fuel was added to the anger burning within him against the wizard. Would she even survive the journey to Erebor? What was the wizard thinking?

Before either he or Balin could grab the young princes by their scruffs to hold them in place they had dashed towards the small figure and were intruding themselves in that way they had done since they were boys.

"Fili," announced the blonde.

"Kili," announced the brunette.

"At your service," they said in unison, bowing deeply.

Bilbo was looking between the two dwarves with a look of bemusement.

"You must be Mr Boggins!" Kili announced cheerily and Dwalin rolled his eyes. Was the boy blind or just an idiot?

"I'm sorry…who?" Bilbo questioned, frowning with confusion and looking past the brothers to…him.

Dwalin felt a thrill go through him as her eyes landed on him. Looking to him. He was so used to having the opposite affect that it was almost heady. With his scars and less than approachable looks he could not remember there ever being a time when someone had looked to him for reassurance.

The brothers turned with almost comical slowness to him, their eyes wide and a blush lighting up Kili's cheeks like a beacon.

The Hobbit wound her way past the shocked brothers and came towards him.

"More of your company Mr Dwalin?" she asked, smiling up at him. The twinkle in her eyes almost back but still guarded.

He smiled down at her, unable to stop himself from feeling proud of her.

"Aye Miss Bilbo,"

She glanced down and he followed her movement, seeing for the first time the plate she was carrying and noticing the burning lamp.

She shrugged and handed him the plate and the lamp. None of them really needed the lamp, coming from a race of miners made for almost perfect eyesight in the darkness – and the added light from the windows was all they really needed –but he smiled thank fully at her.

"I'll be off to make more tea then, help yourself to the scones," she turned about and retraced her route past the boys to her door. He watched her go and looked on with interest as Fili and Kili followed her with their eyes, and then their heads.

She paused at the door and turned.

"And it's  _Miss,_ " she looked at the boys and frowned, but he was sure he caught the corner of her mouth quirking with a suppressed smile, " _Baggins,"_

The door closed.


	4. The Company Arrive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the company arrives and Dwalin gets a little growly.
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all of your feedback! It is so encouraging. *hugs*
> 
> Another image of Bilbo for you once she had changed out of her dressing-gown :) If haven't checked out the Hobbit dress-up game on dolldivine.com it is so much fun!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> :)
> 
> This chapter was initially posted on 11/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted on 30/06/13

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin glared at the circular green door. He was really starting to hate that door.

Dwalin and Balin watched the young princes with rising amusement as their gazes remained fixed on the perfectly round entry point to the Hobbit's home. Then without warning whatever spell they had fallen under broke as simultaneously and they turned to look at each other. Then they turned fully to face Dwalin and Balin who had both gone back to their drinks.

Dwalin thought that he could get used to tea – as far as teas went this had to be one of the best he had ever tried.

The boys stared wide eyed – and pink faced where Kili was concerned – at their elders.

"Mr Boggins?" Fili finally broke the silence, scoffing at his brother and shoving an elbow into his side. Dwalin rolled his eyes but made no move to stop the brothers as they began to swat at each other.

"At least I said something," Kili said as though it was an achievement.

"Poor defence that," Balin observed and Dwalin grunted in agreement. This seemed to remind the royal brothers that they had an audience and they immediately stopped batting at each other.

"That," Fili gasped, pointing behind him at the closed door – Dwalin really hated that door, "was a girl," Kili was nodding his head so hard in agreement that Dwalin was waiting for it to fly right off.

Dwalin glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye and caught him doing the same thing. They exchanged smirks and remained silent. The two younger dwarves didn't need to know how close their reactions were to what their own had been after all.

Fili and Kili exchanged glances again.

"No, you see  _that,_ " again Fili pointed to the door at his back, "was a gi-rl," he enunciated carefully, eyes as wide as a dragon's dinner plate. Kili's head continued to go up and down.

"Aye, she is," Dwalin finally took pity on them.

"So the burglar is a…is a-" Kili stammered.

"Not-Mister," Fili finished.

Dwalin sighed heavily. Thorin had better settle down soon because he shuddered to think of one of these idiots inheriting the crown.

"We wait for Gandalf," Balin announced, "He will sort this out,"

Dwalin didn't hold out much hope on the wizard sorting anything out – this was his plot after all.

* * *

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Bilbo reached to the back of one of the cupboards, the one she was sure her mother had kept the 'big-folk tea-pot' in. She would be standing by the kettle all night boiling water if she used her own much smaller tea-pot. She would make up a big pot and drag a table into the hallway and leave the front door open. That way they could serve themselves at the table and march right back outside to the garden until Gandalf arrived.

"Haha," she crowed in victory as her hand closed on the handle of the tea-pot and she dragged it out. It was a hefty thing and it would be even heavier with the water in it but it would suit the purpose. Pot found she sat it in the sink to give it a quick wash out and set the kettle to boil again.

Bilbo wondered what the rest of this company would be like. The four outside were an interesting group all by themselves. She found herself thinking of Dwalin as she ran a damp cloth over the outside of the teapot. She had been frightened of the large dwarf when she had opened the door. Everything about him from the art upon his skin to the weapons on his back told her that he was dangerous – not to mention the scars - and yet everything that he had done had set her at ease and she hadn't had to think twice about going to him when the two strangers had approached her and introduced themselves.

With names like Fili and Kili and the way they had been so in sync with each other she guessed that they were brothers.

"Mr Boggins, indeed," she giggled.

And then a knock came at the door.

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin stood silently to the side, as was his habit, and watched as the wizard bent low to knock on the door and Balin filled in the company. Dwalin had already growled at them quickly about respect but had been forced to leave the rest to his brother when he had seen the wizard approach the door.

The door opened and Balin fell silent. Dwalin's gaze remained fixed on the wizard and the Hobbit, he didn't need to look to know every single one of the dwarves was doing the same thing.

The lass seemed startled to have the wizard in front of her but the frown that had creased her forehead faded from her face a moment later.

"Gandalf," she acknowledged the wizard.

"Bilbo," the wizard replied.

Dwalin felt more than a little disappointed as he had wanted her to send the wizard on his way.

The dissappiintment vanished in an instant though and was replaced with that glowing feeling again when the Hobbit sighed and peered around the wizard, looking for him. Her eyes met his for a moment and she gave him a small smile, he returned it and she quickly took in the rest of the company. She paled and sighed focusing once again on the wizard.

"You had best come in," she sounded like someone who had just accepted something they didn't like but knew that they couldn't do anything to change it.

"Thank you my dear," the wizard sounded far to cheerful and Dwalin glared at him harder – if that was possible.

Gandalf stepped aside and gestured for the dwarves to enter the house. They lingered for a moment or two but Fili and Kili – unsurprisingly – were the first to make for the door already unfastening their weapons.

" **Behave,** " Dwalin growled at them.

The rest of the company followed suit jostling for entry through the door.

Dwalin was in no such hurry, instead he stalked to the wizards side and spoke low.

"I would be having a word with you wizard," he growled at the grey man.

"Indeed Master Dwarf," Gandalf replied unruffled, "I look forward to it," he bent to enter the house.

"You shouldn't," Dwalin shot back and the dwarves easily made way for the man. Dwalin wondered what Fili and Kili were doing to be stopping the others from entering and moved closer to the back of the company.

"Nice place this. Did you do it yourself?" he heard Kili's voice.

"No," came the faint reply, "My father built it for my – can you please not do that. That's my mother's glory box!"

"Let me pass," he snapped viciously and the company parted in much the same way as they had done for Gandalf.

He entered the softly glowing home – to say it was under a hill it was very cosy – and found Kili lowering his booted foot from the edge of a finely decorated wooden chest and Fili piling his many weapon upon its lid. His eyes travelled next to the little Hobbit who was standing by the entrance of what smelled like the kitchen. She was shifting from one foot to the other and wringing her hands together fretfully. Everything in the way she was holding her body screamed that she wanted to dash forward and put a stop to their actions but her eyes shone with fright.

That decided him.

He strode forward, cuffing both younger dwarves sharply about the head, grabbed both of them by the scruffs and dragged them away from the group. He released them as they spat out protests to their treatment. Well, they should have listened to him if they hadn't wanted to be treated like children.

"Has you uncle taught you nothing?" mention of Thorin silenced them both, "This is not your home.. You are guests. You will treat it and its owner with the respect deserved," he snarled and they had the decency to lower their eyes and nod their heads.

They were good lads really, Dwalin knew this. But they had spent the majority of their young lives traveling and he knew their education when it came to manners was not all it could be. They were also prone to jokes and purposefully testing the patience of those around them. Patience that he was lacking right now.

"Now get. And behave yourselves,"

They didn't need to be told twice and he followed them towards the noise where the rest of the company were wasting no time in ferrying food from the pantry to what appeared to be the dining room. He glanced to the glory box to find that the weapons had been removed and were now propped against the wall by the door in an orderly group.

"You did what?" he spun about looking for the owner of the voice and quickly spotted the too tall figure of Gandalf standing slightly stooped in the kitchen speaking with a very angry looking Hobbit.

"They have had a long journey here and they needed some…incentive,"

"And that incentive was my pantry!" the Hobbit hissed, the paleness in her cheeks gone and replaced with a bright flush. Dwalin was glad to see that she had some spirit after all and that currently it was being aimed at Gandalf.

In fact, she looked right bonnie with her cheeks all red and her hands on her hips instead of all wrapped around herself. Dwalin was glad he wasn't in Gandalf's place.

He shook his head and left them to their not so whispered argument. He weaved through the bustling dwarves and stepped out the door to recover the tray now balancing precariously on the edge of the step. No doubt kicked by the all too eager feet of hungry dwarves. He lifted it carefully – the delicate wood feeling as breakable as spun glass in his battle hardened hands. He quickly spotted the empty plate sitting half in and half on top of a hedge and placed it on the tray too. He hadn't even managed to get one of the scones before the rest had arrived and the plate was snatched from his hand and passed around – to obviously end up in a hedge. If the appreciative mumbles had been anything to go by the lass could bake.

Turning back to the hillside he pulled up short and swiftly raised the tray high as a small body barrelled into him. A gasp came from the person and they stepped back. They raised their head and he was looking into the still flushed face of Bilbo Baggins.

"Oh, Mr Dwalin, I am sorry. I was just coming out to fetch…" she looked up to where he still held the tray high above her head and giggled, "that actually," she pointed at the tray and covered her mouth to muffle her giggles. Her eyes were twinkling again above her hand and he couldn't find it in himself to care about the slight blush he could feel burning his cheeks when he lowered his arms.

He handed her the tray when she held out her hands for it and quickly made sure that the mugs and crockery wouldn't topple from it when she moved.

"Thank you Mr Dwalin," she smiled.

"I apologise for the way the company are," a raucous bought of laughter drifted from the house and she jumped slightly at the sudden noise.

"No need. Gandalf has told me that this will be the first proper meal many of you have had for a while. I can't be angry about that," she smiled at him and turned, tray in hand, to go back into the hill.

"It's just Dwalin, Miss Bilbo," he reminded her.

She paused before crossing the threshold and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her eyes twinkling brightly.

"And it's just Bilbo,  _Mr_ Dwalin," she smiled cheekily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Kitrazzle and VerteriLunum -
> 
> Fili - ~~Wait, that's a girl!~~  
> Kili - ~~That's a girl!~~  
> Both - ~~Ooo a pretty girl~~  
> Kili - You must be Mr Boggins ~~IDIOT!~~  
> Fili - *face palm* ~~Smooth Kili~~  
> Kili - ~~wait, she's looking at me. Did I wash my face this morning?~~  
> Fili - ~~She's looking at me. Well, my beard is amazing after all.~~  
> Both - ~~Wait?~~  
> *turn*  
> Both - ~~DWALIN!~~
> 
> Dwalin - *sips delicately at his mug of tea* ~~Oh yeah! I still got it.~~


	5. There is a Feast at Bag End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company eat and Thorin finds Bag End
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is Chapter 5 as promised :)
> 
> It is just Bilbo's POV in this chapter - we get to see a bit of her spunk :)
> 
> Thank you everyone for continuing to comment! I am SO glad you are enjoying it.
> 
> This chapter was initially posted on 12/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted on 30/06/13

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Bilbo was going to crack. She could feel it. There was a lump of something heavy bubbling in her chest and it was getting heavier as her anxiety rose.

Gandalf had quickly taken charge of the dwarves within seconds of his arrival (just before she could drag him into the kitchen for a talking too) and had set them to work. And that work had been moving furniture and finding chairs to fit everyone into her dining room.

An old chest that she kept several sets of curtains and a few table clothes in (and that usually sat quite happily in the dining room) had been moved to the hallway along with the nice free-standing cupboard that had shelves to showcase some of the prettier plates her mother had collected. All moved to make more room to 'fit everybody in'. She had made quick work of carefully removing the decorative plates (how they hadn't fallen and smashed during the move she didn't know but she had no intention of courting fate) from the two shelves and rushing them to her bedroom to sit safely on her bed.

She had managed to rescue her grandfather's chair from one of the dwarves who was quite happily ferrying it to the dining table. In his defence, and once he had remembered to raise his hearing horn to his ear, he had been very apologetic and immediately put the family relic back where he had found it. And all the while the rest of them had been ransacking her pantry and even broke out the last barrel of ale that had been leftover from her coming of age the year before – of course she didn't actually like the stuff but she had a sentimental attachment to it.

She had even had to catch two small wheels cheese as they were tossed over the shoulder of one of the dwarves when he was inspecting her pantry shelves. She was sure she had heard "Riddled with mould," and "Gone bad," being mumbled. Obviously dwarves didn't have blue cheese then. She wasn't too keen on it herself but some of her relatives loved the stuff and you never could be certain of when they would just pop in unannounced.

And now, after what felt like a life time but couldn't actually have been all that long, she was standing in the entry to her dining room slack jawed.

Twelve dwarves and one wizard was proving to be a little too much for her to handle as she watched food being thrown across the table to land on plates or in various mouths. She had seen Dwalin trying to keep some kind of order at the table but failing and she could tell that if she were to ask them to behave she would get the same answer "We are!"

They weren't actually that bad – even if there table manner did resemble those of a ten year old. After Dwalin and whisked Fili and Kili away by their collars each of the dwarves had filed in and introduced themselves with a deep bow and a 'thank you for the hospitality' to be sent off to work by Gandalf. And several times in the pandemonium that had followed, when she had failed to react quickly enough, one of them always seemed to be around to sweep her out of the path of an oncoming plate of food or pile of crockery. And there had always been a quick apology from the carrier and her rescuer and a slight dip at the waist or nod of the head.

Gandalf had told her some of them had travelled a very long way to get here – although he still hadn't told her why and she still held fast to the notion that they were very much lost – with only the food they had brought or could catch to fill their stomachs. Her Hobbit sensibilities had shivered at the very idea. Hobbits in general loved their food, the more vast the selection the better and the idea of being limited in such a way was not appealing. After all there were only so many ways you could cut a fish or a rabbit when out on the road…not that she spoke from experience.

So she took pity on them and left them too it not able to find it in herself to begin asking questions when they appeared to be enjoying the food so much. She retreated to the fire place and rotated between perching nervously on the edge of the armchair and standing, taking deep, calming breaths and trying to convince herself this was nothing to get worked up about. Only making herself known to rescue some books from being used as coasters – and was that a footprint on her table? -, a doilie being used as a dish cloth and a map being used to – well she still hadn't figure out just what they were trying to do with the map.

When it was clear they were all finished she began to clear the table. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the whole table erupted in thanks and compliments on her cooking. A blush burned her cheeks at the praise and she soon found the pile of plates she had collected being taken from her by Dwalin.

"We ate the food Miss Bilbo, we'll wash the dishes," he rumbled, towering over her.

"Oh, no, it's no trouble at all," she stammered casting her eye over several pieces of her mother's best crockery that had somehow got muddled in with the other plates and cups.

"Don't worry yourself, we could juggle this lot with one hand and still not break any of it," she looked back at Dwalin who was smiling at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

She sighed and nodded her head.

"Very well Mr Dwalin,"

She backed away from him and stood nervously watching as the plates and dishes were collected at an impressive speed by a dozen eager hands, washed by one of them and put away in exactly the right places. Wait, did the dwarf by her sink have an axe blade in his head? She gulped, closed her eyes and tried to remain standing. Her stomach rolling a little at the image that flashed in her mind of just how he could have got that.

Bilbo laughed and clapped her hands when in no time at all the dishes were cleaned and put away with no breakages. The tension that had filled her at the thought of her mother's dishes laying shattered on the floor fleeing her body. Some of the dwarves bowed theatrically low to her with beaming smiles.

And then a knock at her door silenced everyone.

"He's here," Gandalf said almost ominously and then she watched open mouthed as the wizard went to her door and opened it with her trailing behind the group like a duckling. She couldn't even see past the dwarves to her door to see just who had arrived.

This was just getting beyond the joke now. Who did Gandalf think he was, answering her door like this was his home?

"Gandalf, I thought you said his place would be easy to find," she could hear a deep voice, "I lost my way. Twice," She rolled her eyes at this. Twice indeed. Twelve dwarves and one wizard had made it to her door just fine without any complaints of being lost. Shame they didn't really. She might have got her supper and been in her nice warm bed by now if they had.

"I wouldn't have found it at all if it weren't for that mark on the door," the body-less stranger continued.

Mark?

She pushed past the standing dwarves who all stepped aside when they realised it was her and not one of their friends jostling by.

"There is no mark on that door," she announced, finally bursting past Dwalin and Balin into her front hallway. She should know, "I only painted it a week ago!"

Usually Holman Greenhand took care of keeping the paint fresh but he had recently taken on a Gamgee cousin and was taking care to show him the gardening work. It had been a nice day and Bilbo had painted the door herself and had enjoyed it, despite the scandalised glance Mr Greenhand had given her when she had told him. And there was no mark.

"Yes, there is a mark," Gandalf told her calmly as he shut her door, "I put it there myself,"

At least he had the decency to look almost bashful.

"Bilbo Baggins allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield,"

Silence again.

This dwarf was dark haired and from the grey streaks running from his scalp he was not as young as Fili or Kili but then not quite as old as Balin. He was a broad shouldered individual and muscled – although how much of that was his clothing and how much was actually him she couldn't quite tell. Like the rest of the company he was wearing heavy boots that looked like they could make a hole in the floor if he stepped too hard.

He frowned at her and she once more found herself being stared at with surprise – honestly, if anyone had a right to be staring in surprise it was her! – and then the dwarf was looking at Balin and Dwalin who were still standing where she had pushed by them.

" _This_ is the Hobbit?" he asked sounding almost scandalised.

There was a rustling sound like someone was fidgeting and she heard a throat clear behind her.

"Well I am  _a_ Hobbit, and I am standing right here" she said fighting to keep her voice steady as the dwarf set his gaze on her once more.

"My apologies," he sounded sincere, "But tell me  _Miss_ ," he took his eyes from her to shoot a look at Gandalf "Baggins, can you fight?"

_Fight?_

"I beg your pardon?" she met Gandalf's eyes for a split second before the old man looked away.

What was the wizard playing at?

"Axe or sword, what is your weapon of choice?"

Was he actually serious? She had seen some of the weapon that had been lined up by her front door. She was more likely to pull her arm from its socket before she could even lift one of them.

She gulped as he took a slight stop towards her and she fought not to take a step backwards.

"Well I do have some skill at conkers if you must know," she bit out, wanting to hit this arrogant, condescending male over the head with something heavy. Maybe she could lift an axe. Just for him. Well…just to wallop him with anyway…after she had done the same to Gandalf. Her smart answer got some chuckles and although she was waiting for some kind of reprimand from Gandalf for her words it never came.

"But I don't know what-"

"I thought so," he interrupted her and looked at Gandalf.

"She looks more like a grocer's daughter than a burglar Gandalf" he hissed, once again acting as though she wasn't even there.

This gained a few uncomfortable laughs and she could feel a flush of embarrassment climb into her cheeks and darken the tips of her ears.

And just like that he turned from her, told Gandalf he wanted a word, and walked into her dining room like he owned the place. Bilbo couldn't move for shock and it was Gandalf sighing heavily that had her finally come back to herself. She looked up at the wizard and levelled him with what she hoped was a good glare before stalking into the kitchen to get a cup of tea and see if any biscuits were left. As this Dwarf was doing such a good job of acting like her home was his she didn't need to treat him like guest then did she, she reasoned petulantly. This Thorin Oakenshield character could fend for himself and find his own supper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Bilbo is a bit younger in this story that in the Book/Movie you didn't misread that bit. ;)
> 
> Toodles  
> x


	6. In Which Bilbo Just Wants a Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets his dinner and Bilbo gets another visitor
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. 
> 
> A little change in POV this time around. 
> 
> Say hello to Thorin :)
> 
> This chapter was initially posted on 14/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted on 30/06/13

**Thorin's Point of View**

Thorin knew little of Hobbits and their ways, but what he did know was enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind in regards to the wizard. Hobbits were a peaceful bunch who seemed to be more famous for their lack of travel than for anything else. They lived, they worked and they died in their little country and rarely ventured from it. Content and happy.

It was this that had Thorin questioning Gandalf's decision.

Thorin did not want to be responsible for dragging a peaceful, soft little creature away from his home – burglar or no – to face dangers unknown and more than likely death. He did not know if he could deal with the life of an innocent on his conscience.

But then the wizard was adamant. It would be Bilbo Baggins of Bag-end or it would be no one.

So he had reluctantly agreed to go along with Gandalf's plan to meet the company and the burglar at the burglars home in Hobbiton – of all places.

And finally in the middle of his second round of the reasonably small settlement he had to stop a passing Hobbit – of which there had been few – and ask for directions. A shaking finger was used to point him up a path before the Hobbit – who he guessed to be a child or near enough – had dashed off in the opposite direction as quickly as he could. It was easy enough to find Bag-end once he had been pointed in the right direction and he couldn't stop the heavy sigh from escaping his lips at the cheering he heard from within.

The spirits of the Company would not be so high for much longer.

* * *

**A little while later**

Thorin glared at the wizard as he sat down at the top of the table, Gandalf taking a seat beside him while Balin placed a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew in front of him.

"Explain yourself, wizard," he snarled hoping that he had not been proved wrong – as Dwalin had predicted continually - in trusting Gandalf.

The wizard remained silent, puffing on his pipe as though he didn't have a care in the world. Thorin breathed deeply, reminding himself that this was a wizard he was dealing with and they were a law unto themselves. He looked around the table at the rest of the company. His eyes immediately finding his nephews first – his sister would have his hide if anything happened to them on this trip. It looked as though they had made it to the Shire in one piece though and they were whispering between themselves at the other end of the table.

He quickly ran his eye along either side of the table, checking over the rest of the company. They all seemed hearty and well – and from the flush and glint in some eyes they had been more than happy to test the ale that was sitting by his bowl before his arrival.

Next he looked to his immediate right and left to find that Balin was looking at his brother and Dwalin was eyeing the wizard and clenching his hands as if he wanted to plant his fist where it would do the most damage to the wizard to his body.

"Gandalf?" he hissed angrily and still the wizard did not respond and he breathed deeply one more.

The anger bubbled further within him not knowing what this man's game was. He should have followed Dwalin's council and known better than to trust the wizard. He expected them to put a woman in danger. Ignoring the fact that it was hardly proper for a woman to be alone in the presence of fourteen males, it would be dangerous.

He had looked the lass up and down earlier, taking her in and just stopping himself from circling her. From the tips of her almost Elven ears to her slight shoulders to her small waist and – from what he could see of them – slim legs. Everything about her said that she needed protecting and they had no time to be worrying about her on the long journey to Erebor. Although maybe she did have some fire inside her, as had been proved by the sharp conker comment. Her eyes had flashed at him and a flush had bloomed on her pale cheeks. He felt some guilt at his near interrogation of her but he had been angry at Gandalf for making a fool of him.

He could hear clinking from somewhere else in the strange house and a high pitched whistle.

" **Balin, Dwalin, what is the meaning of this?** " he asked, reverting to their own language, not wanting the lady of the house to overhear them speaking about her.

Balin simply shrugged.

" **Dwalin arrived first,** " he replied and Thorin turned his head to Dwalin who was leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest.

" **The lass had no idea we were coming. Little thing was all ready for bed when I arrived,** " the warrior grumbled and was that a blush?

A rumbling began at the table as dwarves turned to their neighbour and began to mumble softly to one another.

" **The lass was upset though she tried to hide it. I waited outside in the garden 'til Balin arrived,** " Dwalin chuckled at the mention of his brother and Thorin glanced to the older brother who was frowning and flushed.

" **Aye, alright, the lass gave me a surprise I'll admit it,** " Balin mumbled grudgingly.

Thorin reckoned her appearance shocked everyone. Except for the wizard. He threw Gandalf another glare.

" **Not to mention that she knew nothing of the mark on her door,** " Balin trailed off.

Thorin snorted at this and began eating the stew before it went cold.

' _Burglar in need of work' indeed._

He let out an appreciative grumble at the food. It wasn't bad at all. He took another spoonful and chewed. Not bad at all.

" **Aye the lass is a good little cook, even if she turns out not to be a burglar,** " said Bofur who was sitting puffing on his pipe, his ready smile on his face.

Grumbles of agreement filled the room as heads nodded eagerly and several lips where smacked together in memory of their dinner. He wondered just what the rest of them had eaten before his arrival to cause the almost dreamy smiles to appear on their lips.

"What game are you playing, wizard?" Dwalin snarled out of nowhere, his body tense and he stood to face the sitting man. Dwalin's sudden outburst caused several of the company to jump in fright but Thorin remained calm and continued to eat. Waiting to see where this would go.

Gandalf didn't even start. He continued to puff calmly on his pipe and not really focusing on anything.

"You wish us to put the lass in dangers way?" Dwalin snapped, mere inches away from Gandalf.

Still the wizard made no move. Until he slowly and coolly took his pipe from his mouth and spoke.

"Bilbo's mother was a friend of mine you know," he told them almost serenely before going back to his pipe.

And then, much to Thorin and everybody else's surprise – including the wizard - there was a knock on the door.

He did a quick head could and glanced at Balin who shrugged.

"This is getting ridiculous," he heard the mistress of the house snap under her breath from somewhere.

"Can't a body make herself a cup of tea without being interrupted,"

There were some guilty chuckles from the company and the not-burglar swept past the entrance at his back on her way to the front door. To his surprise the still standing Dwalin followed behind her as quietly as he could.

He heard the door open and his own curiosity got the better of him. All of his company was here so who would be calling on the Hobbit so late at night.

"Oh Mr Greenhand…is everything alright?"

There was a silence and Thorin got in view of the door in time to see a stout and sturdy Hobbit at the door, a pitchfork in hand. He was staring at Dwalin who was looming a few feet away with a look of fright and shock. He gulped and seemed to physically gather his courage.

"Aye Miss, young Hamfast was saying that he had heard some loud goings on up at Bag-End and some stranger asking for directions so I just thought I would come and make sure everything was fine," the Hobbit gulped again and gripped his pitchfork so tightly Thorin could see his knuckles whitening.

"Thank you for your concern Mr Greenhand, and thank Hamfast for me too," Miss Baggins answered softly, "But everything is fine, a friend of my mother's – do you remember Gandalf and his fireworks? – yes, well he is visiting you see and his companions were in need of a meal,"

Her words did nothing to calm the other Hobbit and his grip remained firm on the handle of the fork.

"Aye, well, as long as you're certain Miss," his looked past Dwalin and met Thorin's eyes for a moment before his eyes darted about at the rest of the company who had stood to see who it was. What little colour had remained in his cheeks fled immediately.

"And if you need anything you just come along to the smial," the Hobbit straightened slightly in an act of bravery that Thorin could tell was just that – an act.

"Thank you Mr Greenhand I'll do that. Goodnight now,"

"Um, yes, goodnight Miss," the Hobbit backed away from the door but not before throwing another frightened glance about the company.

She shut the door and leaned her forehead against the wood, sighing heavily before straightening again and facing them all.

"My gardener," she mumbled before heading back the way she had come.

"Bilbo my dear," Gandalf called from where he was still sitting at the table, "Bring your tea in here and let us begin,"

There was a grumble and a bang from what he now guessed to be the kitchen but no reply to Gandalf's words.

Gandalf was chuckling softly to himself when they all returned to their seats and Thorin went to work on finishing his stew.

"Just like her mother," the wizard chortled fondly.

"She isn't actually going to come with us is she?" Fili whispered to the table but no one had the chance to answer as the Hobbit appeared quickly and quietly in the doorway and went straight to Gandalf's side, a steaming cup in one hand and a biscuit in the other.

The whole table shot to their feet and began offering their seats – except for Thorin who had a spoonful of stew an inch from his mouth. It took several minutes for her to convince everyone to sit down and that she was quite happy standing.

Once everyone was settled again the questions began and Thorin prepared himself to give his men the bad news.


	7. Gold, Dragons and Keys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo tries not to have a break down and is told about a dragon.
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys 
> 
> Sorry I haven't been able to reply to your comments. My internet had been a bit sketchy - hopefully this chapter will post OK. 
> 
> I have read all your comments though and THANK YOU again for taking the time to leave your thoughts! :)
> 
> Bit more Dwalin in the next chapter :)
> 
> This chapter was initially posted on 17/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted on 30/06/13

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Thirteen…

Bilbo felt a little faint.

She now had thirteen dwarves and one wizard clogging up her dining room and nothing to show for it but an empty pantry and mud trodden into her carpet – even the youngest of the neighbouring children knew to wipe their feet  _properly_ before entering someone's house – and possibly a stained reputation if Mr Greenhands visit was anything to go by, but that would blow over quick enough.

She could feel the anxiety building within her chest at the memory of her almost entirely bare pantry shelves. But she fought for control and slammed the lid down on any dark memories.

She would begin baking tomorrow – that's what she would do – as soon as they were gone, and her stores would be back to where they had been in no time at all. She breathed in deeply through her nose and exhaled heavily through her mouth. Yes, it would all be fine. And in the meantime there was always the emergency supplies she kept in her bedroom. They would do her until her house was her own again.

She stood close at Gandalf's shoulder while the late comer – Thorin, a dark, brooding character if ever she had seen one – polished off what was left of the stew and ale. She had expected the intimidating dwarf to ask for more, as his companions had, after all, had no issue with empting her pantry in record timing. But he didn't. He sat quietly and ate what was put in front of him in between answering questions.

They were speaking of other dwarves and a visit Thorin had paid them to ask for help.

Bilbo was surprised that the other dwarves (all the way from the Iron Hills) were refusing to assist their kin in whatever it was they were planning on doing and she decided that she did not like this Dain person.

Silence fell after Thorin's announcement and the melancholy quiet made her feel more twitchy than the noise and food throwing over minutes before ever had.

"You're going on a quest?" she asked, immediately breaking the spell that had fallen over the gathered company. Thorin looked up at her as though she was a bug in his food and not the person whose food he had been eating and whose table he was sitting at. She wanted to do something to rectify that and felt the agitation build in her chest.

_How dare he!_ She screamed inwardly. But she knew she was fooling herself. She wouldn't really do anything about it. So she took another sip of her tea to calm herself instead.

"Bilbo my dear, would you mind getting some more lights," Gandalf asked her gently, his voice soothing the hurt from Thorin's look.

She put her cup down on the table – hoping it would be free of any elbows – and slipped her biscuit into her apron pocket to join the four others that had managed to escape the hungry dwarves earlier.

She left to fetch more candles and lit the two lamps hanging from the walls either side of the entrance to the dining room. She placed two freshly lit candles onto the middle of the table to join the two already there – having to lean over the bulky shoulders of two dwarves whose names she couldn't remember to do so. She kept one in her hand, she would need it for her room later.

Her job complete she returned to Gandalf's side and took up her cup again. Standing on her tip toes she peered over his shoulder to look at the map he had finished flattening on the table.

Gandalf chuckled and he turned just enough to place a hand on her waist and guide her next to him. And into the place she had been avoiding. Next to Thorin.

She eyed up the Dwarfs hair, her own hair, the candle and the lack of space between them.

She blew out the candle and placed it next to the map. No point in tempting fate.

"Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands lies a single solitary peak," he explained to her, pointing to such a place on the map.

"The Lonely Mountain," she read thoughtfully and took out a biscuit. Crunching into it and thinking.

"You speak of Erebor, Gandalf?" she remembered reading of it in one of the many books her father and mother had collected. Hadn't it been destroyed by a dragon?

"Indeed Bilbo," Gandalf's eyes twinkled in that wizardly way that said he knew a lot more than he was letting on.

She hated that look. She knew it meant nothing good.

"Aye," she glanced up from a map at one of the dwarves, "Oin has read the portents," she tried to remember who Oin was, "And the portents say it is time," she caught several dwarves sighing heavily and rolling their eyes. Obviously they had heard this more than once.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain, as it was foretold," she glanced around Gandalf to see the dwarf who was now speaking.

_That's right. Oin is the one with the ear trumpet._

"When the birds of yore return to Erebor the reign of the beast will end,"

She gulped.

"Uh, what beast?" she asked, stepping a little closer to Gandalf as all eyes turned to her.

The one with the funny hat took his pipe out of his mouth to answer her.

"That would be a reference to Smaug the terrible,"

She blinked.

Wasn't that the dragon that had destroyed Erebor? Did that mean it was still there? Thirteen dwarves and one wizard were going up against a dragon? Were they insane?

She began to fuss with the edge of her shawl with her empty hand and raised the cup to her mouth with the other. Trying to keep herself busy.

"…claws like meat hooks. Extremely fond of precious metals," he continued.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is thank you, Mr…" she trailed of, cursing the number of names that had walked into her house.

"Bofur Miss," he told her helpfully going back to smoking his pipe, his eyes twinkling.

"Mr Bofur," she nodded her head.

She jumped, startled, when one of the younger dwarves scraped back his chair noisily –  _my floor_  – and announced his lack of fear before being dragged back into his seat in a way only an older sibling would do.

"Mind your manners," the older dwarf hissed causing the younger one to flush.

"What is the meaning of this Gandalf," she whispered to the wizard who only looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"…we number just thirteen," Balin was talking now, looking around the table at each of the company, "and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest,"

She nearly giggled at the reaction this comment gained from the company as she backed away to lean against the wall to the side of the entrance so she could see everyone who was speaking. She tucked into another biscuit.

"I'm bright,"

"Pennies are dull to me,"

"Sorry, what did he say?"

And her personal favourite that carried above all the others.

"Here, who are you calling dim?"

A hand landed on the table and Kili…or was it Fili began to speak. A very rousing speech about being few but being fighters.

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company," piped in the dark haired and strangely beardless member of the duo, "Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time,"

An excited chatter filled the table at this comment and Bilbo tried to stop her mouth from twitching into a grin when the wizard stuttered and stammered when asked just how many dragons he  _had_  killed. He choked on a breath of smoke.

Her amusement quickly faded as chairs were pushed back and insults began to fly from one side of the table to the other. She stepped up quickly and tried to make herself heard above the racket, hoping to rescue her floor from anymore abuse.

"Excuse me…um…please,"

She didn't realise that she had come to stand behind Thorin's chair until he cried something and stood, nearly sending the chair right into her legs.

She leapt to the side, her tea cup thankfully empty, as all the dwarves sat down, the room becoming deathly silent compared to the noise of seconds before.

The dwarves sat in their seats like naughty children and Thorin spoke of other's eyeing up their mountain.

_Who would want a mountain if it comes with a dragon? Even if it hasn't been seen for sixty years._

She bit into another biscuit, chewed and swallowed. Continuing to watch this strange group of visitors at her dining table with curiosity and nervousness.

"You forget, the Front Gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain,"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

They had locked themselves out of a mountain?

"That my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf spoke brandishing a key and handing it to a shocked Thorin who took it almost reverently.

"How came you by this?" the dwarf asked hoarsely and Bilbo was surprised that he could convay any emotion other than disapproval.

"It was given to me by your father. By Thrain. For safekeeping. It is yours now,"

"If there is a key, there must be a door," said Fili…or was it Kili.

Gandalf nodded in agreement and pointed at runes drawn on the map and told the company about a hidden passage…

_Wonderful. Now they have the key. They are no longer locked out. And I can have my house back. All's well that –_

"…Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,"

She sighed. She should have known that was far too easy.


	8. An Expert Burglar?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo is given the contract and we hear from Dwalin.
> 
> **Changed/tweaked and re-posted**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. Sorry this has taken a while to be posted. I have been editing some of the previous chapters - so far I have made changes to Ch 1 and 2. Nothing major but some bits and peaces have been added. 
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> :)
> 
> This chapter was originally posted on 31/05/13  
> Changed/tweaked and re-posted 30/06/13

**Dwalin'sPoint of View**

Dwalin kept a close eye on the little lass as Gandalf detailed what he knew of the hidden door and the secret entrance to Erebor – which wasn’t a lot ( _but a lot more than what we know)_  – and his plan – which was even less. He wondered if she realised how expressive her face was.  She looked ready to giggle with mirth one moment and like she was about to start pulling at her hair in annoyance the next. And all the while she was crunching away on a biscuit and leaning against the wall to the side of Gandalf as though this was a regular occurance for her. 

“That’s why we need a burglar,” piped up Ori, Dori and Nori’s younger brother once Gandalf had reached the end of his semi-explanation.

If it wasn't for the fact that the dragon would recognise the smell of a dwarf anywhere nearby (if it was still alive that is) Dwalin was all in favour of sending the quick witted and nimble fingered Nori into the layer. The thief had enough practice at such things after all. But no. Instead they were all here in the house of a Miss Bilbo Baggins and the wizard was more than happy to drag her from her nice cosy home and into all sorts of dangers. 

Dwalin looked to the lass to see what her reaction was to the explanation and to Ori's words. 

Bilbo had just popped the last of the biscuit into her mouth and was chewing as she swiped her hands together. She was staring ahead at nothing in particular and as far as Dwalin could tell from her glazed over eyes he wasn’t entirely sure if she had been listening to the wizard. Either way he was willing her to throw them all out of her front door sharpish before she could get talked into anything.

“Hmm…” she swallowed, “A good one too I shouldn’t wonder after that. An expert,” she nodded her head thoughtfully and her eyes came back into focus. So she had been listening.

“And are you?” asked Gloin and Dwalin regretted that he wasn’t near enough to kick the other Dwarf under the table.

“Am I what?” she asked confused and her wide eyes gaze shifted to him, looking for the answer.

Dwalin opened his mouth to say something, anything, to set her at ease when Oin misheard her despite his ear piece and announced to the room that she was an expert.

“Me!” her eyes widened impossibly further and she straightened from the wall to stand by Gandalf. She began to shake her head violently in denial so fast it looked like it hurt, “No! No, no, no. I am not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life,” she told them.

Now that he could believe.

* * *

 

** Bilbo’s POV **

Burglar her, Bilbo Baggins? The very idea was ridiculous and yet Gandalf looked deadly serious as did all of the dwarves at the table as they looked at her. 

She had never stolen anything before. Well, unless you counted stealing back the silverware her horrid younger cousin, Lobelia, was always lifting and taking home with her... But taking back something that was already yours wasn’t really stealing…was it?

“I’m afraid I am going to have to agree with Miss Baggins,” she looked to Balin who was looking at her with an almost paternal smile, “She is not exactly burglar material,”

“Nope,” she agreed readily.

_Finally someone making sense._

“Aye, the Wild is no place for gentle folk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves,” Dwalin added looked at her and she nodded her head in agreement. Maybe someone who wasn’t her would have taken offence at that but she was aware of her own limitations. 

The table erupted with chatter. Some agreeing with the statement and others contradicting it.

And then Gandalf stood, his presence seeming to grow until she thought he would burst through her ceiling, his shadow spreading out from his body to envelope the room. Everyone hushed and her mouth dropped open as she watched the wizard who always seemed so docile and grandfatherly lose his temper. 

“Enough!” he cried, “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar than a burglar she is,” the shadow receded and he continued to stand.

Bilbo noticed though that her low ceiling made him look a little less intimidating as he had to stoop slightly or risk hitting his head. 

_And what if Bilbo Baggins says she isn’t a burglar, what then?_

“Hobbit’s are remarkably light on their feet,” she glanced down at the tops of her fuzzy feet, he had her there, “In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose,” she couldn’t argue with that either, she could even sneak past other Hobbits if she tried hard enough, “And, while the dragon-” she felt the colour drain from her face at the mention of the dragon, “-is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf the scent of Hobbit is all but unknown to him-“

_Yes, until he gobbles me up and decides Shire-Folk make a perfect Before-Dwarf snack._

“-which gives us a distinct advantage,”

Bilbo struggled to breathe properly. So they _were_ working on the idea that the dragon was alive. And it was Gandalf’s great plan to send her into its lair and then what? Ask it very nicely if it could find some other gold filled mountain to live in? 

“You asked me to find the fourteenth member of your company,” Gandalf told Thorin, “and I have chosen Miss Baggins,” Bilbo nearly leapt from her skin when the wizard's large hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“There’s a lot more to her than appearances suggest. And should she agree to accompany us I think she will surprise not only us but herself,”

All eyes turned to her and she gulped, feeling the weight of their looks pressing down on her lungs.

This had to be some kind of elaborate prank.

But it wasn’t. The eager, focused faces of the dwarves at her table were no act and Gandalf didn't strike her as the kind to play such pranks. 

There was a squeeze to her shoulder again and she turned from the faces to concentrate on only one. Gandalf smiled at her his eyes twinkling. 

“Just have a look at the contract my dear,”

Contract?

She nodded her head dumbly.

“Alright Gandalf, but only a look,” she quirked an eyebrow in an attempt to show him that she meant it and his hand left her shoulder to collide with his other in loud clap.

“That’s the spirit by dear. Balin, the contract!”

Before she knew it a small bundle was being pressed into her hands by a scowling Thorin.

She wondered if he ever smiled. 

“It’s just the usual things lass,” Balin told her, smiling gently, “Summery of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements and so forth. If you need me to explain anything you just say so,”

_Funeral arrangements?_

She backed out of the room and stood alone in the well-lit hall.

 _Deed of Contract_ read the curling script. 

She pulled the ribbon free and the paper unfolded until it touched the floor.

_Alright then._

“Bilbo my dear, come and sit down here and I shall bring you a nice cup of tea,”

“Hmm,” she glanced up, half paying attention and saw Gandalf gesturing to the seat he had just vacated. She nodded and walked towards him, allowing herself to be guided into the chair.

Had she had Gandalf sitting on a regular chair all of this time?

“I am sorry Gandalf, I should have got your chair,” she went to stand and rectify this. Her mother would be disgusted. She should have fetched the man sized chair from the storage room as soon as Gandalf had appeared at the door.

A firm but gentle grip was exercised on both of her shoulders by the wizard himself who smiled softly at her.

“Don’t worry yourself Bilbo, I will manage,”

“But-“

“No, you just sit here and allow me to bring you some tea while you read the contract,” his grip turned into a reassuring pat before he released her altogether, “It was very bad of me to trespass upon your evening the way I have done,”

She opened her mouth to tell him that ‘no it wasn’t’ but decided not to and shut her mouth just as rapidly. She blushed when he let out a deep chuckle, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and left in the direction of the kitchen.

Leaving her with thirteen dwarves and one contract.

She decided to ignore the former in favour of the later.

“Conditions of Engangment,” she muttered under her breath and then ran a quick eye down the document and sighed. This was going to take a while.

* * *

 

 

** Dwalin’s POV **

Dwalin tried to decide whither to follow the wizard into the kitchen or stay put. It was Thorin standing to follow Gandalf that decided him and he glowered at the others to keep them quiet as Bilbo looked over the contract.

For some reason her reaction to the document was making them all nervous as they shifted and fused in their chairs.

Her smiles and almost giggles had him feeling a little anxious too and he was tempted to whisper to Balin and ask just what he had put in the contract to have her react in such a way.

Gandalf appeared with Hobbit sized cup of tea, closely followed by a glaring Thorin, and placed it in front of her. She nodded her head and muttered a ‘Thank you’ but never looked up as a grin spread across her face and she began to giggle again.

What had Balin put in that thing?

She continued to work her way down the document, muttering to herself and shaking her head at points – sometimes with a smile and sometimes without.

Finally after some time she sat back in her chair and giggled.

“Well first of all Mr Balin I must congratulate you on this fine contract,”

Balin almost preened opposite him and he rolled his eyes.

_Throw us out lass and be rid of us!_

She lifted the contract from the table and ran her eye over it, obviously looking for something specific amonst the jumble of words and Gandalf settled down in Thorin’s chair.

“Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof; including, but not limited to, lacerations, evisceration, incineration,” she looked to Gandalf but the wizard had sharply lifted his head and was glaring at Balin.

“Lacerations, evisceration and incineration, Gandalf,” she spoke calmly, yet pointedly and put down the contract and took up her cup of tea.

Dwalin nearly grinned at the wizard’s discomfort.

“Well my dear, there _may_ be a dragon involved,” he pointed out.

“Oh I haven’t forgotten that bit,” she told him almost sweetly, “It sounds to me like you need a dragon slayer not a burglar,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes!
> 
> I have finally caught up with the editing. 
> 
> Nothing HUGE has changed but some little bits have been added. Well...I say little bits but there has been approximately an extra *gulp* 4,000 words added all together soooo....yeah.  
> But like I said though, no whopping great big changes so don't fee like you have to go back to the beginning and start reading again or anything like that. :)
> 
> Chapter 9 will be up on the 1st or 2nd July all being well so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Tata for now :)


	9. Reading the Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo reads the contract and finally decides to get something to eat. 
> 
> Bilbo's Point of View

**Bilbo's Point of View**

“Never sign your name to anything before you have read it from beginning to end my girl. And be sure you understand every word of it,” her father had told her time and again with a smile whenever she would stumble across him stooped over his desk reading some document or other, “If it takes you a month to do so, you let it. It is a lot harder to take back than to give your word and your name on a matter,”

So, when Bilbo sat down to read the bulky packet that was the company contract (at Gandalf’s urging) it was with her father’s words echoing through her mind. And she was prepared to give it all of her attention for however long was needed.

At first as she untied the band of leather and began to read she was still not completely convinced that it was not some highly elaborate and distasteful joke, but a quick glance at the still steady and serious faces surrounding her and at the wizard’s expression quickly dashed that idea once again. So she continued reading, determined to take every word seriously – despite the constantly growing bubble of hysteria threatening to burst at any moment from within her.

She read the contract carefully from beginning to end unable to stop herself from frowning in places and giggling in others.

Upon reaching the end of the document she had come to the conclusion that it was a piece of art from the first word to the very  last. Since her parents had died and she had been left to see to the up keep of Bag End (and some other land that her father owned) she had read and even written her fair share of legal documents and contracts, but this eclipsed them all. At least once a year the rental agreements had to be re-written and agreed upon for the farming land and for the past few years she had written them herself and had felt ridiculously proud of the achievement. But then Hobbits were simple folk and all the agreement really consisted of was rent payments and field yield percentages. Now she realised that her own almost pointless scribblings were nothing compared to the contract before her. It covered everything that she could think off and a few things that would have never occurred to her and the mention of her seven meals a day had brought a grin to her face and a flicker of her annoyance. 

_Gandalf must have told them about that, or maybe someone who knew a little about Hobbits._

Despite the contract being one of the finest pieces of writing she had ever read, her reaction to most of it – she was ashamed to admit as she was trying to be serious – had been amusement.  But when she had read the passage about the pipe-weed how could she be expected to keep her composure. But there were more than a few points that nearly had her giving into that bubble of hysteria. Points like the ‘pest-control’ and funeral arrangements were definitely a cause for concern in her mind.

_And why am I referred to as a he throughout?_

She pushed the contract away from her and allowed herself to give in ever so slightly to the hysteria tickling at her throat. She giggled and looked around the table until she found the grey haired and twinkly eyed dwarf she was seeking.

“Well,” she choked, just managing to stop the giggles from escalating into a full scale laugh and – no doubt – from there to tears, “first of all Mister Balin I must congratulate you on this fine contract,”

The dwarf shot a wide smile at her and straightened in his chair at her compliment.

She smiled at his reaction and turned to look up at the wizard who sat down slowly in the empty chair at the head of the table.

Where had Thorin gone too?

_Never mind._

Bilbo shook her head to clear her thoughts and took up the contract again. She wanted to point something out to him and see if she understood things properly and now was as good a time as any to do just that.

She scanned for the passage she was looking for.

_Ah, here it is._

She began to read.

“Present company shall not be held liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof; including, but not limited to, lacerations, eviscerations, incineration,”

She knew well enough what that meant. This was a suicide quest and they wanted no complaints if she were to die.

Bilbo knew that more than one member of her family had been unhappy with the Thain’s decision to allow her to remain at Bag End after her mother had died and would be more than happy to get their hands on Bag End no matter the circumstances.

She looked up at Gandalf but the wizard had sharply lifted his head and was glaring at Balin. Obviously Gandalf hadn’t been involved directly with the writing of the contract then.

Bilbo cleared her throat and Gandalf focused on her.

_Good!_

“Lacerations, eviscerations and incineration, Gandalf,” she spoke as calmly as she could and reached for her cup of now lukewarm tea. She took a sip and winced at the taste and feel of the cooling liquid on her tongue.

Gandalf cleared his throat in that nervous fashion she had quickly identified.

“Well my dear,” he finally spoke, “there may be a dragon involved after all,” he smiled sheepishly.

She remembered the dragon all right and what the burglars job seemed to involve.

_Pest-control indeed._

“Oh I haven’t forgotten that bit Gandalf,” she smiled at him, wondering just how he had the nerve to be so calm, “It sounds to me like you need a dragon slayer not a burglar,” she bit out, waiting for some sign of agreement from Gandalf.

Nothing was forthcoming and the old man just lifted his pipe to his lips and began his puffing and blowing once more.

Perhaps she would have said something she would have later regretted – her anxiety and annoyance were rising quickly enough for that to be the case – if her stomach had not chosen that moment to growl.

Bilbo decided in a moment of self-righteous stubbornness that Erebor had been around for hundreds of years and it would still be there for the company to find whither she took the time to finally have some supper or not. Besides, no self-respecting Hobbit would ever make such a decision as this on half a cup of lukewarm tea and a couple of biscuits.

_No self-respecting Hobbit would be even considering going on this wild goose chase to begin with._

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. She had more than a few cousins who she knew were just about mad enough to attempt such a journey.

She ignored all of her racing thoughts for the time being in favour of telling Gandalf what she was going to do as she was certain she had caught a look of panic flitting across the wizards face when she stood with no warning.

“I need a warm cup of tea and some supper of my own Gandalf,” she told him tiredly, rubbing a hand over her eyes and wondering just what time it was. “And while I eat perhaps you and your companions could answer some of my questions,”

The panic faded from the wizard’s eyes and he nodded his head in agreement.

Bilbo went straight to her bedroom without further discussion and fell to her knees in front of her bedside table and, reaching for the door to the small cupboard she saw her hands were shaking.  She stopped and clenched and unclenched them a few times, looking at them like she had never seen them before. Had they been trembling this whole time? She hadn’t noticed.

She opened the cupboard and pulled out one of several small sacks. She tipped it out and half a loaf of seedy bread and a chunk of cheese tumbled onto her lap. That would do her. She would toast the bread - a far cry from her lovely fish but a far sight better than biscuits. Her supper decided upon she put the bread and cheese onto the table and went to stand, only to find that her now trembling legs refused to cooperate.

“Stop being such a little idiot,” she berated herself even as she swivelled around slightly to rest her back against the side of her bed and drew her traitorous knees up to rest her forehead on.

She breathed, feeling sick and wobbly even though she was already sitting.

In and out, steady does it.

All at once everything seemed to crash into her mind. Dwarves. Erebor. Gold. Dragons. Adventure. Dying.

Her breaths became quicker in her panic and she fought to calm them.

“You’re fine Bilbo, just fine,” she whispered to herself, breathing though the slight fogginess that was beginning to encroach upon her vision.

All she had said to Gandalf was that she was going to read the contact. That was all. And yet just the idea that Gandalf fully expected these things of her frightened her to death.

_Pull yourself together Bilbo Baggins!_

She refused to faint! She was not going to pass out when she had a dining room full of strange men – even if one of them was an old friend of her mothers. She regained control of herself slowly and took her time in standing and recovering her provisions.

She could hear the soft mumbling of the Dwarves upon making her way back to the kitchen but she was too annoyed at herself and too hungry to pay them much attention. She set the kettle to boil as she sliced the bread and cheese onto a plate.

All the while her mind was racing.

These Dwarves were going on a quest to reclaim their home. A home that had been taken from them violently and suddenly and had led to countless deaths. How would she feel if her home had been taken from her so quickly and with such destruction?

_I would want it back as soon as I could get it._

And coming from that standpoint she could agree quite happily to the quest, if it was as simple as it first sounded.

Travel from Bag end to Erebor and find the back door. Simple really.   But it was a long way from the Shire to the Lonely Mountain and then even if they made it there was the potential fire breathing, dwarf-eating ‘pest’ at the end.

Bilbo’s hands began to shake once again as she poured her tea and she gripped the handle more firmly – surprised when it didn’t break.

She was Bilbo Baggins of Bag End not some snivelling little ninny who couldn’t do anything for herself. She had been her own person and had been looking after herself for years now and she could manage to keep herself together for the rest of the evening.

She grabbed the plate, a long fork that usually hung from the wall balanced on top of the food and the tea in her other hand. She went to her father’s chair by the fire.

She put the plate onto the chair and sat on the floor in front of the dancing flames, placing her cup next to her on the rug.

One of the Dwarves must have been keeping an eye on the fire as it should have gone out quite a while ago. She was glad she didn’t have to fuss about with relighting it.

The Dwarves had fallen silent in the dining room as she arranged her skirt around her legs and put a slice of bread onto the fork. She held it over the fire and gazed thoughtfully into the flames.

Her mother had done this with her once upon a time when they had gone camping throughout the Shire – Belladonna had even managed to talk her husband into accompanying them more than once and the family trips had become treasured memories to Bilbo. Their own little family adventures…

She breathed steadily, ignoring the lump that always came to her chest at the thought of her parents who had both passed well before their time, and only looked up from the fire when she heard a thud and Gandalf was leading two of the Dwarves into the room carrying his proper sized chair. She remembered using it as a climbing frame when she was a child.

The two Dwarves whose names she couldn’t quite remember yet placed the chair opposite the arm chair but not close enough to make her feel trapped and left silently after a nod and a smile in her direction.

Gandalf sat down in the chair and smoked his pipe.

Bilbo took the piece of slightly singed but perfectly edible toast from the fork, blew on it and took a bite.

It was time to ask some questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 as promised! :)
> 
> I know that some were really keen on having Bilbo faint but in all honesty if I was alone in the house with fourteen strangers I would be trying my hardest to not do that... 
> 
> Anyhoo, on a side note, I am starting to make use of Tumblr (and having great fun with it :)) and posting one-shots to my account there. If you like Rumbelle (once upon a time) or Sherlock they are what I am mainly focusing on and it'll be mainly FEMSherlock (I have this whole universe going on in my head;)) 
> 
> If you like I will post teasers to whatever chapter of The Burglaress I am working on at the time - maybe twice a week or something like that. Let me know if you guys would like me to do that. 
> 
> You can find me at http://griffinquillsandoctopusink.tumblr.com/


	10. Let the Discussion Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear from Dwalin and the others and Bilbo wants to know 'why me?'

**The Dwarves Point of View**

They all sat in a respective silence to begin with not wanting to risk upsetting their hostess or distracting her as she read – the glare Dwalin had levelled at each of them may have also had something to do with this wise course of action. There was also the strange feeling that filed them all like they were the cause of a family argument as the mistress of the house spoke with the wizard. And then there was that cold feeing of guilt that filed thirteen stomachs when the little Hobbit's own stomach had growled and it was made clear to them all that while they had cheerfully emptied her pantry she had eaten nothing.

The company only began to talk softly among themselves when she had left the room to fetch her food from who knew where.

Balin was the first to break the uncharacteristic silence.

"I think we have overwhelmed Miss Baggins,"

There were a few guilty nods and a humourless chuckle from Thorin who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest against the wall.

"Some burglar you have found for us Gandalf," the kingdomless royal growled.

The wizard remained silent but threw a poisonous frown at the Dwarf.

"Aye, she is the right size for a burglar I'll give you that," spoke up Nori (who knew a thing or two about burglary – just ask any member of a local law enforcement watch) "But she is a little nervy, no?"

"Not to mention," Balin spoke up once again, "that she didn't even know to expect us,"

"Aye and whose fault is that?" grumbled Dwalin, glaring menacingly at Gandalf. "And how did you expect the lass to act when fourteen strangers appeared on her door step," he growled at Nori.

The other Dwarf raised his hands in surrender and everyone proceeded to glare at the wizard.

"Perhaps," the combined pressure of the thirteen pairs of eyes seemed to finally get to the man, "I could have worded things differently this morning when I spoke to her," he admitted, slowly standing. "Now, if I could trouble Gloin and Dori to help me with something I would be most grateful,"

The chosen dwarves exchanged curious glances but followed Gandalf from the room just as the hiss of boiling water could be heard from the kitchen.

Once again the flush of guilt tinged their faces as the Hobbit exited the kitchen with a cup and a plate of bread and cheese – nothing at all like their own colourful and flavourful meal. The Hobbit made herself comfortable in front of the fire and they watched in silence as she began to toast her bread.

* * *

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin fell silent after he had quickly put Nori in his place and stewed in own guilt. He had seen the state that her stores had been left in once the company had finished filling their bellies and decided that before they left he would see about snaring some rabbits to at least put something back into the empty room.

The anger he was feeling towards himself was only eclipsed by rage aimed at Gandalf the Grey.

He was annoyed by the wizard's attitude towards the Hobbit woman, everything the wizard was doing just seemed to be confusing the poor lass even more.

His eyes narrowed on the wizard as he came back from wherever he had vanished to with Gloin and Dori. The pair were following close behind carrying a Man sized chair. What was the old man's game? He was more than capable of carrying the chair himself. They put the chair down where Gandalf told them too and returned to the table. Dwalin watched the two silent company members carefully as they exchanged glances.

Something was going on but he would find out just what later as Bilbo was beginning to speak.

* * *

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Bilbo broke the silence once she had finished her first slice of dry toast and had begun toasting the second slice of bread – this time with some cheese.

"I am sorry if this seems rude of me Gandalf, but just why are you here?" she asked, hoping that she didn't come across too sharp or forceful. The last thing she wanted to do was insult a wizard so early in life.

"To offer you the chance of an adventure, my dear,"

Bilbo looked at him and she saw that he was being truthful – at least partly so anyway. Gandalf struck her as the kind of person who was working to more than one plot at the same time.

"But why me?" she took the toast and cheese from the fire and let it cool, "I am nothing special Gandalf," she was speaking the truth, she was the most normal Hobbit she knew, "I am just Bilbo Baggins. I would only get in the way and be a nuisance…" she trailed off. She was a Baggins and everyone knew that Baggins' were the steadiest bunch of Hobbits you could ever hope to find.

"Hmm," she looked away from the cooling toast and met Gandalf's eyes. He was smiling gently at her, "Perhaps it is you I should be trying to convince more than out rock headed company hmm?" a brow quirked up and his eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled at her, "Believe me my dear, I know that no one would be better suited for this task than yourself. I would not be here otherwise,"

Silence fell for a moment, Bilbo really had no idea what to say in reply to that.

"Come now! Whatever happened to that young Hobbit I once knew who would wonder home late at night fresh from searching for elves. Trailing mud and leaves behind her,"

Bilbo chuckled at the memories Gandalf's words brought to her mind. It seemed like a thousand years ago and yet it wasn't all that long ago that she was that young Hobbit. Not long at all…

"Much to the displeasure of father," she mumbled and Gandalf chuckled deeply.

"Gandalf," she sighed, taking a bite of her cooled cheese and toast, "I am a Baggins. Adventure hardly runs through our veins. It is more likely to bring us out in hives," she spoke around her toast, wincing at her own lack of manners but she was sure Gandalf would forgive her and he didn't seem to mind. It tasted quite good and she set up the fork with the next batch and held it towards the fire.

"And really, out of all the adventurous occupations you choose a burglar. A burglar of all things,"

"My dear Bilbo," laughed Gandalf, "You forget that you are also a Took,"

Bilbo could not help but roll her eyes as he told her that tale of Bullroarer Took knocking the Goblin king's head from his neck and inventing the game of golf at the same time – personally she couldn't remember that part being in her mothers version.

"I think you made that all up," she told him, finishing her toast and sipping at her tea.

"All good tales deserve embellishment. Wouldn't you like to be a wizened old Hobbit with a gaggle of youngsters surrounding you and begging for more stories of your adventures?"

Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at the old rascal's words as he tried to tempt her.

"I think you will find that I am more my father's daughter than my mother's. If you head towards the river you will be tripping over my more adventurous cousins," she pointed vaguely in the direction of the river but the only reply she got from Gandalf was a laugh.

"No my dear, you will suit very well. Now ask your questions and we will see what we can do about giving you some answers,"

Bilbo felt a sense of relief that there would be no more beating about the bush and put down her cup, stood and brushed the crumbs from her hands and skirt and into the fire as much as she could. She missed mostly but she would set about cleaning as soon as she had the first batch of baking in the oven the next morning.

Guilt prickled at her stomach as she thought about the Dwarves setting off short one much needed Hobbit-Burglar (if Gandalf was to be believed).

_It's all good and well the Dragon not knowing what a Hobbit smells like but what if he decides it is nicer than Dwarf._

She stood straight and turned away from the fire.

With purpose she went back to the dining table where all the Dwarves were sitting in an eerie silence and swept up the contract.

She unfolded it completely and it fluttered against her dress as she studied the words.

_Conditions of Engagement._

Just where was she supposed to be begin?

Bilbo began to click her tongue nervously against the roof of her mouth.

_Might as well start with the most trivial._


	11. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo gets some answers - almost

**Bilbo's Point of View**

"Why am I referred to as a 'he' throughout the contract?" she asked calmly.

She looked to Gandalf and a sheepish expression came over the wizard's face as a throat or four was cleared at the table behind her. Was that embarrassment she detected?

"Yes, well," Gandalf coughed, "I may have neglected to tell our company otherwise," he admitted having the decency to not meet her eyes.

"Indeed," she commented dryly and turned to face the company as Balin began to speak.

"We assumed Mistress Baggins, as Gandalf never told us otherwise. And Bilbo is, well, excuse me for saying lass, but it sounds a lot like a lads name," the Dwarves all shifted uncomfortably as she remained silent. She couldn't remain so silent for long though and began to giggle, taking pity on the poor Dwarves who though they had insulted her with their assumptions about her name.

"That is because it  _is_  a boy's name, Master Balin," she told them once her giggling had stopped, and now frowns replaced the shifting.

"I am the result, or rather my name is, of what happens when you hand the wrapped up new-born to the shell-shocked new-father while also in the company of the record keeper," she smiled, just imagining how her father must have been that day.

There was an awkward silence and Bilbo used it to recover her cup of tea from in front of the fire and return to her spot inside the entrance to the dining room, cup in one hand and contract in the other.

In her absences several of the Dwarves had stood and were gesturing to their now empty seats.

Bilbo felt uncomfortable with the courtesy. Uninvited as they may be they were still her guests and obviously the majority of them were her elders and they were offering their chairs. The head chair was unoccupied but the grouchy late comer was standing in the corner and she didn't want to take his chair and possibly make him even more out of humour.

She noticed that one of the younger members of the group had also stood so she thankfully took his place, not feeling quite so bad, especially as her knees had begun to tremble – again – and she doubted she could stand for much longer. The young Dwarf blushed at her smile of thanks and pushed the chair in gently behind her so that she would be close enough to use the table.

"Poor father," she continued her story as the silence still hung thick in the air, "was so excited to have a child he didn't realise that Bilbo was not a suitable name for me. And so I have been Bilbo ever since," she stopped her rambling and looked around at the staring males.

 _Silly Bilbo! They didn't want to know all of that_.

They continued to stare at her and she wondered if Dwarves didn't speak of such things that dealt or touched on child birth.

She quickly took a sip of her tea to try and steady herself and moved on.

_What next?_

She scanned her eyes over the paper.

"Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of the total profit if any," she mumbled under her breath, nodding her head in silent agreement with this, "Seems to be fair to me,"

She shook her head in amusement as she read once again over the section dealing with the plaque that would be erected in her honour should she die.

_Very decent of them. Although I would love to know how I can pick the material and place if I am dead._

"Meals," she mumbled next, "So called second breakfast, morning or afternoon tea, or late supper are not included,"

Bilbo felt like announcing that she was quite capable of surviving on three (or less) meals a day thank you very much, but kept it to herself. In fact she found the thought of Balin panicking over feeding a tiny Hobbit with an apparently bottomless stomach seven meals a day while on a long journey highly amusing.

She giggled and continued to scan the document.

Ah yes, the pipeweed.

"Now, my father, grandfather and even a grandmother I have been told loved their pipes but I have never been partial to pipeweed myself," the smell of the burning dry-leaves reminded her so much of her father but the one time she had tried it at the urging of her cousins (really, she should have known better) she had rapidly vomited her afternoon tea, narrowly missing them. She had avoided it like the plague since, "So you'll excuse me if I don't go out of my way to steal any?" there was a chuckle or two and she was sure that Balin was blushing. He nodded his head in agreement.

"I do however have a barrel of the stuff in storage that you are more than welcome too," heaven knew she was never going to smoke the horrible stuff and she only kept it around for when her uncles paid the occasional visit. There was an outpouring of thanks from the table except from Thorin who continued to scowl from the corner. She shivered at his dark gaze fixed on her, glaring.

Had he been staring the whole time?

She quickly dropped her eyes to the contract again and more nervously than before continued to mumble some of the words under her breath. She could feel the burning gaze on her now that she was aware of it and fought to ignore it, throwing herself into finding her next issue with the contract.

She only had one more problem with the contract and it was a pretty big one and one that Gandalf had been dancing around.

"Now then Gandalf, how about this 'so-called 'pest-control'' that can lead to the lacerations, incineration etc, and how the 'Present company'," she waved at the room to indicate the Dwarves, "'is not obliged' to lend a hand with it,"

There was an outbreak of mumbling in a language she couldn't understand and someone from behind her took the contract from her hand with a "Excuse me Mistress Baggins," and the next thing she knew there was a little group of them – including the imposing but comforting Dwalin – studying the contract in the hallway. She shrugged in confusion and continued with addressing the wizard who had left his chair by the fire and was standing slightly hunched in the hallway to the side of the growing group. The wicked and vindictive side of her hoped that he would hit his head on the light.

_It would serve him right if he did._

"I have dealt with a mouse or two," there was a huff of sarcastic amusement from the direction of Thorin and she bristled inwardly, "but any have yet to try to bite off my arm or burn me to a crisp," she quirked an eyebrow.

Bilbo's hands began to shake now that they were empty and she quickly tucked them out of sight on her lap and clenched them together.

"The dragon, my dear,"

She was beginning to get a little annoyed with getting the same answer over and over again.

"Yes, I understood that part Gandalf and I will ask you again. What good is a Burglar against a dragon?"

Silence once again fell between herself and her mother's old friend. The only sound in the room was coming from the Dwarves, who were still pouring over her contract and mumbling among themselves just to the side of Gandalf.

She felt like she was being some petulant and moody child as the silence continued but surely she deserved an answer.

"I have every confidence in you Bilbo," Gandalf looked her in the eye as he spoke with utter conviction, "that should Smaug still be alive you will be just fine," Bilbo realised that though he may be speaking the truth he had not answered her question.

She sighed and sat back in the chair taking the opportunity to look around at the thirteen Dwarves. There were only a few of them still at the table as most of them were circling the contract.

She smiled shyly at the Dwarf who was sporting the axe through his head and the red headed one who looked like he could be rolled from place to place. Thorin's disapproving glower was no longer focused on her she was glad to see but on the group in the hall.

One of the older Dwarves – didn't he have a hearing horn not too long ago? – had a bag up on the table top and with the help of another he was rifling through it mumbling unknown words backwards and forwards and glances up at her every now and then and setting out little packets of herbs and leaves onto the table top.

Fili and Kili were still in their seats at the end of the table having a hushed conversation of their own and seemed to be blind and deaf to the rest of the room.

The others were all studying her contract with great animation and were constantly pointing between the document and Balin who was speaking rapidly in the unfamiliar language.

Thirteen Dwarves from an entire nation were being brave enough to try and reclaim their lost kingdom. It was going to be a dangerous quest most certainly and if she did accompany them she could die (would more than likely die – no one could ever accuse Bilbo of not being a realist). But in the grand scheme of things what was one little Hobbit compared to reclaiming the home of thousands of Dwarves.

The more harsh and cynical side of Bilbo's mind was not quite so self-sacrificing as all of that though.

_Just where are all of these thousands of Dwarves now?_

Hiding in their Iron Hills and playing the 'this quest is yours' tune.

Bilbo had read enough history books to know how it would play out.

Should the quest succeed those who had been too cowardly to step up when needed would be all too happy to profit from the success.

_And should it fail?_

Well, they had lost nothing and had a poor group of idiots to laugh about when in drink and they could congratulate themselves in refusing to take part in such a ridiculous scheme.

Just the thought of it angered Bilbo, her sense of fairness and right rebelling at such an idea.

She needed to think, alone, quiet and – she looked up at Thorin – with no one glowering at her like she had just drowned a bag full of kittens in the river.

Bilbo stood. Her traitorous legs beginning to shake again but she straightened them stubbornly.

"I need to think Gandalf," she told the wizard who nodded his head in silent understanding.

"I won't be gone long. Help yourself to tea and whatever is left in the pantry,"

_If they can find anything they deserve to eat it._

She headed to the door, swinging a cloak from the row of hooks around her shoulders. She paused with her hand on the latch.

"Can you…" she swallowed, "can you promise me I would come back. If…" she gulped again, "If I came," she faltered, not entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

A shadow seemed to fall across Gandalf's eyes and he shook his grey head.

Bilbo felt something in her sink.

"Oh,"

"And if you did, you would never be the same, my dear,"

Bilbo gulped around the lump in her throat and nodded her head in acceptance. After all, it wasn't like he was telling her something she didn't know he had only clarified it.

_At least he was honest._

She pulled the door open and stepped out into the cool night.

"I will be back shortly Gandalf," she pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against the sturdy wood, breathing steadily and taking in the stillness f the night.

She walked down the steps and took a seat on the bench.

_How ironic. Just where this crazy day started._


	12. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo makes her decision

**Bilbo's Point of View**

It didn't take long for Bilbo to give up on sitting on the bench to begin pacing instead. Under the circumstances she found it to be the more productive option. She was warring with herself. The Baggins blood in her berating her for even considering such a stupid quest while the Took side was telling her that it was about time she did something fun – of course the Baggins common sense piped in that she hadn't exactly lived the kind of life to prepare herself for adventuring.

_True,_ she agreed with the thought.

And an adventure with the possibility of being dragon food at the end did not sound like a fun prospect to her.

The Took in her chimed in that she had plenty of time to think of something before she got anywhere near the giant (and no doubt grouchy) lizard.

The Baggins actually agrees – after all, if there was one thing that a Baggins could do it was plan and think. But then the thought continued. She wouldn't have to worry about facing the dragon or coming up with a plan because she would be dead long before that would happen.

_Charming._

Bilbo stopped her pacing and sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose and fighting to clear her mind. She was being silly, she knew she was, but after a lifetime of listening to the Bagginses excusing any undesirable behaviour from her with a 'It'll be the Took in her' and the Tooks shaking their heads sadly at her more reserved nature and chalking it up to 'That'll be the Baggins strain' she had grown used to splitting her thoughts down the middle when it came to making big decisions.

Well, maybe it was time to stop being a Baggins with a bit of Took or a Took with a bit of Baggins and just be plain Bilbo with a bit of common-sense.

Her heart tugged at the thought of not having a home and being a wonderer from necessity rather than desire. No one should be forced from their home.

Maybe it would have been easier if the dragon had flattened the mountain and left it at that. But no. He was squatting. The whole time the dwarves of Erebor where wondering homeless there was always the knowledge that their home still stood behind them but ever out of reach.

She looked down the hill at the glowing lights of the homes below.

She couldn't imagine her neighbours being forced from their homes, being put into a situation where they could either run or die. It was almost impossible to imagine.

She plopped back down into the bench.

She had made her decision – or rather her sense of right and wrong had made her decision for her – but she wanted to enjoy the stillness for just a little longer…and think about the changes she would be making to the contract.

**Balin's Point of View**

Balin could feel the flush rising up his neck to his cheeks and he was waiting for his beard to catch light from his skin any second.

As the nearest thing to an advisor Thorin permitted Balin had assisted in writing the one and only contract that would be issued. After all, the Hobbit was not a Dwarf and would not feel the kinship and sense of duty that they all did and had to be bound to the company by something. Gold was a ready enough motivator for anyone he had found and one fourteenth of Erebor's treasure was tempting by anyone's standards.

He had gathered what information he could on Hobbits for the less general parts of the contract and as young Ori had it in his head to be a scribe he had allowed the lad to work on the wording and assist in the writing. Gandalf had been very quiet on the matter of Hobbits once he had told them where to journey to - it had been like getting mithril from a lump of coal trying to get the wizard to speak on the subject. So what details he had included in the contract had been gleaned from inns – the Prancing Pony at Bree had been a mine of information and had allowed him to put the finishing touches to the document.

Of course, the wizard's silence on the matter of the Hobbit now made perfect sense.

_Probably didn't want to risk slipping up,_ he thought uncharitably.

Balin flushed all the more as Mistress Baggins' mumbling brought back to his mind the specifics of what he had written and saw fit to include in the contract.

Guilt rose inside him.

How foolish it all seemed. The lass was right, it was not right for them to expect a burglar to face a dragon – whether there was slaying involved or not. Even as he had been writing it into the contract he had not been comfortable, but the only thing that Thorin liked less than involving a stranger in the quest was the thought of losing any more of their own to the dragon. So, the only way to stop that from happening was to offer the burglar enough gold to last a thousand lifetimes in payment for the danger 'he' would have to survive.

And so it was decided, that in order to keep their own casualties down the burglar would be the first (and only if Thorin had his own way) to face the dragon if it still lived.

He was surprised when a scowling Dori approached the Hobbit and gently took the contract from her hands and went off with several of the others (including his less than pleased looking brother) to study the document. Nori called Ori over to apparently explain the sections the lad had helped write but it didn't take long for Dwalin to growl his name and gesture for him to join the little group. He sighed, met eyes with his glowering king for a moment, and went to join them.

Dwalin's Point of View

Dwalin's muscles bunched tighter and tighter and his body was nearly humming with the tension as he caught Bilbo's muttering and listened to the conversation about the dragon.

A pest?

Dwalin could not believe how his brother had worded the contract and wondered just what his brother and his king had been thinking of when they came up with it. To expect the burglar to kill the dragon was madness, even before it was revealed that they were a woman. Madness! Except for the kitchen knives he had seen nothing in the house that could be called a weapon.

It would shame them all if they sent the tiny creature to face the beast while they waited safely outside the mountain.

Dwalin found the little creature to be fascinating to watch as she giggled and frowned, making the wizard uncomfortable with her half asked questions as she probed in her own subtle and not so subtle way for the truth of the matter. He was not entirely sure what he thought of her father – what kind of a half-wit named their child before the mother anyway? If any dwarf ever tried such a thing there would be hell to pay. After all it was the mother's reward to hold and name her child after the struggle of the birthing.

He could tell from the slight sagging on his brother's shoulders that some tension had left him upon finding out that his mistake was almost a natural one to make as Gandalf had not corrected him about the name. And then there was the blush he caught staining Balin's cheeks when he was teased about the pipeweed and the chorus of thanks that broke out when she generously offered them what she had left of the stuff.

But soon the dragon was the centre of the conversation once again and any tension that had left him during the frivolous discussion about pipeweed quickly returned to his muscles and set his bones humming once again.

Had Thorin honestly (and soberly - because Dwalin was beginning to think both his king and his brother had been more than one sheet to the wind when they cooked up the contract) expected the Hobbit to face the dragon alone if it was still alive?

He glanced over at Thorin – still frowning in the corner where he had been since his return from the kitchen – and from the expression on his old friend's face he could see that he had been serious at the time of the writing. Surely that would change now though.

His eyes returned to the wee creature who was back to smiling and shaking her head in amusement at the things she obviously didn't deem important enough to mention aloud but found funny all the same. Her smile of amusement turned to a confused little frown as Dori removed the contact from her hands and with a frown of his own made his way (with a few of the others) to the hallway.

Dwalin joined them and was soon one of the group scanning the ridiculous document – after all neither he or any of the others (as far as he knew) had been made to sign anything.

Soon enough all of them were focusing on the section that dealt with the dragon. That is, all but Bofur. The smiling dwarf was staring at a few sentences and pointing at them with a coal stained finger.

"Does the lass really eat that much?" he asked, surprise lacing his voice.

Dwalin swiftly read the section and his mouth dropped open at the list of meals.

His eyes joined the others in giving the lass a quick once over. From the tips of her pointy ears to her fury feet she wasn't what he would call large – in fact, compared to some of the Hobbit's he had passed on the road she was slight - and he couldn't quite see how that many meals a day could fit into such a tiny being.

Attention was quickly brought back to the matter of the dragon and he called his brother over to them.

"Balin, a word," he growled, and his brother came to stand beside him in their little circle.

"Nori, does Miss Baggins really have that much to eat do you think?" he heard the young lad apprenticing under his brother whisper to the thief – a person who Dwalin had been less than happy to discover was coming along.

"Hush lad. Stay focused," the thief whispered back.

"You can't seriously be expecting her to sign this," the usually so proper Dori shot out harshly before Dwalin had the chance to snap out his own question.

"It's true that her being a woman changes some things and I will amend-"

That old-

"You can't still be expecting her to come," Dwalin grumbled, "We'll just have to find another burglar,"

"Gandalf is adamant on the subject. It's mistress Baggins or it is no one," Balin did not sound at all happy about this either, "And as far as the contract goes-" his brother sighed heavily, "-once she signs it,  _if_  she signs it, it is legally binding,"

Dwalin couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was his brother getting dithery in his old age?

_No, he's just been spending too much time with Thorin and his attitude of 'everything for Erebor' has obviously rubbed off some._

"She's a woman and you expect us to stand back while she goes alone to face a dragon," Dwalin spoke through his teeth, struggling to keep a rein on his fraying temper, "Ignoring the fact that it is an insult to not allow us to face the beast even if the hobbit was not female," there was some grumbles of agreement to this.

Dwarves were a proud lot and took pride in fighting their own battles.

Balin sighed wearily and ran a hand over his eyes.

"Dwalin I am no happier with that than you are, but her being a woman does not change the fact that the dragon (if he lives) will smell us should we enter the mountain. It is unavoidable. At least for the initial entry of the mountain. We can come up with something should the dragons still be alive…" Balin trailed off and Dwalin followed his gaze to the Hobbit who had just passed them and was standing at the door.

How had she got past them without any of them – without him - noticing? He remembered Gandalf's words about how silent Hobbits could be. He wasn't lying about that anyway.

His heart clenched as she asked the wizard if she would return from the adventure and saw how bravely she took the answer.

The door closed gently behind her and after a few seconds of silence Balin – with a coiled rage Dwalin had not seen in years – rounded on Gandalf.

"Care to explain yourself?" his brother growled and Dwalin quickly joined him, standing being him and scowling at Gandalf. It seemed that everyone was getting to say their piece to Gandalf but him this evening.

_I can wait._

Dwalin had a vast amount of patience when it came to important things. Besides, his own growling and name calling would be almost useless after Balin and Thorin's offerings – not that Gandalf was at all flustered by the reactions he was responsible for. Thorin left his post by the wall and joined in with glaring at the wizard.

"You chose me to find the fourteenth member of the company, correct?" Gandalf spoke calmly. Dwalin hated him for it.

"On the understanding that you would choose someone suitable. You misled us wizard!" Thorin snarled.

So it seemed his king hadn't got everything off his chest in the kitchen after all. But then again, Thorin could hold on to an apparent or an actual slight for a very long time.

"Bilbo Baggins is my choice. She accompanies us or you can journey with thirteen and have all the bad luck you like," Gandalf's voice was stern, daring anyone to argue with him.

"Should she decide otherwise, then perhaps I shall see about finding someone else," the wizard began to mumble about heroes in other lands who were too busy fighting each other to go adventuring.

"Now," the wizard sounded far too cheery as he broke from his muttering, "I think I will accept Bilbo's offer and have a pinch or two of Old Toby. Care to join me?"

Sometime later

The night grew later and still Miss Baggins had not returned so one by one they drifted into the sitting room, their bellies full and the smell of pipeweed thick in the air. They kept the fire burning brightly as one by one the candled guttered and they cast looming shadows across the walls as they sang of Erebor. The mournful tune filled the room until Dwalin could almost feel the walls thrumming with it – he did not like filling the Hobbits home with such a tale. And then thy fell silent once again, none of them having the heart for conversation, and Dwalin began to feel edgy as the minutes lengthened and still there was no sign of Miss Baggins.

He stood, unable to just sit any longer and began to pace restlessly. He could feel the eyes of the others on him and so broke off his pacing and went over to the fire to kick a glowing piece of wood further into the flames.

"She's been gone for a long time," Kili spoke, his voice sounding loud in the silence of the room.

No one spoke. But then what could they say?

_It's disgraceful that we are here, in her home, and she is not,_  he thought savagely, throwing another log into the flames and watching the sparks fly.

"A Baggins likes to think and a Took likes to act," Gandalf spoke from his chair that had been moved from the fire to the corner, "Both qualities will be needed I think,"

_Took?_

"Do you think she'll come?" he heard Kili whisper to his brother and caught Fili shrugging.

But as it turned out they didn't have all that long to wait. Soon the round door opened and the Hobbit entered, drawing the cloak from her shoulders (it didn't look like a very heavy or warm thing, he noticed scathingly) and hung it on one of the hooks.

She walked calmly into another room and out of sight to return with a quill and ink.

She went to the table where they had left the contract in disgust and he watched as she dipped the quill carefully into the ink and scored through various sections of the contract and added things to others.

And then, without ceremony, Dwalin watched as she signed her name to the bottom.

Dwalin felt as though the Misty Mountains had just landed in the pit of his stomach.

It was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I am so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Things have been crazy the past wee while and the week I was planning to plonk down my behind and work on a chapter for each of my stories I was taken into hospital via ambulance after blacking out. Not fun! :(
> 
> But never mind that. I am here and the chapter is finally here.
> 
> The quest begins in the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> Take care. :)
> 
> PS. If you like the idea of a femBilbo/Thranduil story I have started one of those if you would like to check it out. it is only on my fanfiction.net account right now though. I'll transfer it here as soon as I get the chance - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9520453/1/Of-a-Hobbit-and-an-Elven-King :)


	13. Preperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo packs for the journey and decides she doesn't quite trust the dwarves enough yet...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for any spelling errors. It is pretty late here and I may be starting to see double :)

Bilbo’s Point of View

There. She had done it. Her name was on the contract, scribbled at the bottom by Balin’s and Thorin’s.

She quickly showed the dwarves to the guest rooms, never so glad that her father had decided to make allowances for so many guests at the same time before. Even if Bungo had been more than generous when putting in the bedrooms there still wasn’t enough for each of the company to have their own. She provided the extra bedding – pillows and blankets – and left it up to them to decide who would sleep where. Not much to her surprise Thorin chose to have a room to himself – naturally the one with the biggest bed. Bilbo bit her lip, wishing she had made it clear to them that her parent’s bedroom was out of bounds. Despite being mistress of Bag End she had never been able to muster the strength to move from her own room to the master bedroom (as was her right, well-meaning visitors were always informing her). She watched in annoyance as the rude dwarf set his bag next to her parents bed but breathed deeply, she kept the room fresh with regular airings and clean sheets, what did she expect. Bilbo supposed that being a monarch without a throne or not Thorin was used to being at the top of the pecking order and this was a subtle way of reminding everyone of that.

Before she left them she showed them the bath and the taps, assuring them that there was plenty of hot water (whither there was enough for thirteen dwarves to wash with or not they would have to find out themselves) if they wished to wash.

With a smile and a goodnight she left them to fight over the remaining rooms and the bathing order and went to find Gandalf.

The wizard was still sitting in front of the fire taking deep puffs from his pipe and staring into the dwindling flames with a thoughtful gaze.

She didn’t know where she was going to put him for the night. Even though there was the chair there was no bed big enough to fit him and her Hobbit sensibilities recoiled and not being able to provide a comfortable bed for a guest.  

She wrung her hands slightly when he looked away from the fire and smiled at her.

“Ah, Bilbo,”

“Gandalf, I am sorry but I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep. I-“

Her hand wringing was brought to an end as his warm, dry hands closed over hers.

“My dear Bilbo, I will be doing much thinking tonight. Do not worry about me, my dear,” he smiled gently at her and she smiled softly back at him, relief flooding her.

She stood, and he sat in silence for a moment or too, each looking into the others eyes.

Bilbo was the first to look away, glancing down at their still joined hands.

“I fear my mother would have been a far better choice for your quest Gandalf. I will be a sorry substitute,” she whispered.

Gandalf squeezed her hands before releasing them, one long finger came underneath her chin and he pushed gently, encouraging her to raise her head.

She did. Her eyes stinging slightly as she smiled sadly at him trying not to give into the sudden swell of emotions threatening to take her over.

His wise eyes were serious as he looked at her, his own slight smile matching her own.

“My dear Bilbo,” he cupped her cheek, stroking a thumb beneath her eyes, “Your mother was a wonderful hobbit, who loved an adventure for the adventures sake,” she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, her lips trembling.

_“Adventures make you late for dinner…”_

“You, Bilbo Baggins have such a great strength inside of you. I know why you have agreed to go,” she opened her eyes to look at him once more.

“Its…” she breathed in deeply, “It’s not right,”

He nodded his head and smiling at her. No longer a sad smile but one of pride.

“You are a courageous young woman, Bilbo Baggins and everyone will come to see that in time,”

He tweaked her chin as though she was a child and she could not have stopped the little giggle that escaped her even if she had tried.  

“Including our stalwart leader,” he paused, “And yourself,”

He took his hand from her face and squeezed her shoulder.

“Now you had better get yourself some rest. I will see you in the morning,”

The wizard leaned forward in his chair and pressed a kiss to her forehead before she did as he said, taking one of the lit candles from by the fire.

She closed her bedroom door and slid the bolt. She leaned back against the heavy wood and surveyed her room by the light of the flickering flame.

There would be no comfortable bed or hot teapot in the morning. Or lock to keep a door shut between them and her. She had not considered _that_ when making her decision

“Too late now, my girl,”

She straightened from the door and walked to her bedside table to light the candelabra sitting there, once light flooded the small room she went straight  her wardrobe. Pulling out a bag she put it on the bed – careful to avoid the plates she had placed there earlier – and considered it.

What should she pack?

She had very little that could be considered suitable for travelling. She had several pairs of her father’s trousers – that in the way of Hobbit dress came to just below her calf – but they would not offer much warmth. And she had been forced to dispose of her winter clothing when one of the pipes in the walls had burst soaking where she kept them in one of the spare bedrooms. The heavy material had been unsalvageable. She was intending to get some more from one of the autumn markets. It was the wrong time of year to expect any of the stalls to stock winter goods just yet.  

She would pack her father’s trousers and wear them beneath her skirt should she need too. His waistcoats – that still hung in her parents wardrobe – were made of thick material. She would pack some of them. She could always alter them on the road. She would have to wait until the morning to fetch them though.

She packed what she could for the time being and then deciding to put her own mind at ease for when it came to being in the company of thirteen strange males she collected a candle and made way to her bedroom door, opened it and went to the kitchen – thankfully not meeting any of the dwarves.

Setting the candle on floor she dropped to her knees and raided the cupboard that held her gardening supplies. She pushed the gloves and gardening forks to the side until she could reach the small wooden box stuffed at the back. She pulled it to her and still with her head in the cupboard she flipped the lid. She pulled out yet more gloves and a few packets of seeds before finally pulling out what she was looking for

Putting it on the floor beside her she neatly put everything back into the cupboard – it wouldn’t be said that Bilbo Baggins went off on an adventure and left her cupboards in a mess.

She lifted the item.

A simple dagger in a leather sheath rested in her palm. It was small, with a blade the length of her hand and a comfortable hilt. Her mother had brought it home a long time ago from one of her adventures before she had married Bungo Baggins. It had set on the mantelpiece after being deemed a mathom for years until Bilbo’s scissors had broken while pruning the roses and it had been the sharpest blade in the house. In fact for a blade that had sat idle for so long Bilbo had been shocked by how keen the blade was. It had lived in the garden cupboard ever since.

She held the hilt and pulled the dagger free.

The blade glittered in the light.

Yes, it would do nicely and help her to feel safe around the strangers until she trusted them.

She returned to her room to resume her packing. She would need to find a belt slim enough to fit the leather loop at the back of the sheath.

**Balin’s Point of View**

Balin knew that he would not be able to sleep until he had seen to the contract. So as soon as the sleeping arrangements had been settled – he and Dwalin were sharing a room, with his brother taking the floor – and the order decided upon for using the bathing chamber (they had all agreed that the youngsters should be allowed to bath first to get more rest) he had returned to the sitting room and made good use of the pot of ink, quill and parchment he had stashed in one of the many pocket of his robes and by the light of the few candles that were still lit he began his self-appointed task of going through the contract and making the changes he saw fit.

He had ignored the presence of the wizard sitting by the fire – the old fool no doubt didn’t need sleep – and began by inserting his initials by the changes the lass had already made. The pipeweed sections had been scored out completely, he noticed with a smile. It was kind of the lass to allow the company free access to the barrel of dried leaf and a finer blend he had not smoked in many a year.

Taking the little hobbit with them did not sit right with him. She was from a gentle land with gentle people. Even at its most peaceful Erabor had always had a functioning guard and army and there was always someone waiting in the wings to claim the mountain. Little had any of them though that a dragon would be the one to succeed where generations of other races had failed.

No, he was not happy with bringing along the Hobbit but he would not see her used or the contract twisted should anything happen to him on the long journey to the mountain.

He checked and double checked his wording. Changing wording and making it more than clear that she was a women. He added extra passages to draw Thorin’s attention to should his ruler push too far where she was concerned. After some thought he added a passage that if certain…medical needs arose she was to be permitted use of whatever herbs or teas she required. Balin had seen Oin going through his bag earlier with the help of Gloin (who, as a married dwarf, no doubt knew what was needed when a certain unavoidable issue arose) and had seen him looking from the bag to Miss Baggin’s several times, no doubt trying to estimate the effect of certain mixtures on a being of her size and build. Balin fought down the blush.

Finally feeling as though he had done well by the creature who would be accompanying them in reclaiming their home he read the contract through one more time and taking down one of the candles from the wall he dripped the wax onto the edge of the parchment and pressed down the pieces he had written the changes onto, ensuring it was securely fastened to the main body of the contract before refolding it, tying it and spiriting it away into one of his inner pockets.  

A rattling from the kitchen caught his attention.

_If one of those young scallywags is looking for more food I’ll cuff them round the ear before they know what hits them._

He silently went to the kitchen, all the better to catch them in the act, but stopped at the entrance when his keen eyes saw the little Mistress of the house raiding one of the low cupboards. 

Balin knew he should not be spying but curious over what she was doing he stayed by the door, hidden in the shadows being cast by the few candles that had not yet guttered out.

She sat something on the floor at the opposite side of her and closed the door.

She lifted it and he saw the shine of metal as she pulled a small blade free from a sheath.

She was nodding to herself as she turned it this was and that a determined look on her face.

He returned to the table as she slid the dagger home and stood.

In deep thought he pressed the cork back into the top of the small bottle of ink.

He had a feeling he knew why the lass had gone in search of a weapon and he approved.

_Good lass. You keep your suspicions and your doubts until you feel safe._

He thought of the illness that had taken Thorin’s grandfather’s mind.

_And even after if you have to._

He went to return to his and Dwalin’s room.

“Feeling more at peace, Master Dwarf,”

He had almost forgotten about the wizard he was sitting so silent by the fire.

_No thanks to you, Master Wizard._

Not trusting himself to voice his thoughts he simply nodded and continued back to his room.

** In the morning – Bilbo’s Point of View **

Bilbo had not had a good night’s sleep and had been awake long before the sun rose.

She took the opportunity to double check her pack – she had thankfully found a belt slim enough for the dagger – and refresh her memory as to where the things where that she still needed.

Her father’s waistcoat – she would pack two.

Her small sewing tin with some needles and thread. She kept it in the bathroom.

Even though she had been told that the company had a healer she decided to back some of her own remedies. She didn’t want to use up any of their resources with womanly complaints if she had to. The very idea of having to ask a male over such a personal issue mortified her. No. She would be doing her best to keep that to herself and as long as she kept count of the days and made sure to dose herself the day before she would succeed.

Then she faced the task she did not want to.

She wrote the letters she needed to.

One to the Thain, one to Mr Greenhand – Holman was an honourable Hobbit and he would make sure Bag End was kept tidy while she was gone – and the last to Drogo one of her cousins. He was a year younger than he and had only came of age in February but she made it perfectly clear that in the event of her death he was to have possession of Bag End. She wouldn’t let her cousin Otho get his grimy little hands on it for all the Elves in Rivendell.

The time flew during her letter writing and the sun was beginning to rise.

Dressed and ready for the day – although not in her travelling clothes – she quietly let herself out of her room and tiptoed down the corridor. All was quiet in the house. Gandalf she wasn’t all too surprised to see was still puffing on his pipe and staring into the now fireless hearth.

She shook her head at the sight, her eyes watering at the cloud of smoke that hung in the room. She unlatched on of the round windows to try and freshen it up. The wizard didn’t move.

Next she surveyed her bare pantry. As she was leaving with them she supposed it was a good thing they had quit literally eaten her out of house and home.

She sighed heavily and took some coins from the pot at the front door after sliding into her coat and slipping the letters into her pocket. It was early yet, even with the sun rising, but she knew Mr Greenhand would be up and about early. She would give him the letters to deliver – she had specified on the envelope that Drogo was not receive his unless she did not return in two years (she had thought that a nice round number) – and see if he was willing to sell her some eggs and bacon, and maybe some milk if he had any. Sometimes it was handy having a gardener who kept chickens and pigs to supplement his income.

She softly closed the door behind her.

** A Little While Later **

Bilbo returned to Bag End, light three letter but with a basket of bacon, eggs, sausages and some milk.

She went straight to the kitchen and began on the still sleeping dwarves breakfast. She remembered her mother laughing over the stove when he father had still been in bed saying there was no quicker way to get a man out of bed than the smell of breakfast.

She was about to see if the theory worked with dwarves.

She cracked the eggs into her largest frying man and stoked the oven. Once one pan of food was cooked she transferred the contents to a pot and kept them in the oven to stay warm.

_If they don’t wake soon they will be able to build a house the bacon will be so tough._

While the pan sizzled with the latest batch she quickly retrieved from flour from the cupboard and a mixing bowl.

Was that noise she could hear?

She measured some flour into the bowl along with some milk and eggs and began to mix. Stopped to turn the bacon in the pan. And then returned to mixing she heard steps and turned to the entry and found one of the younger members of the company –Ori – standing there.

He looked at her nervously.

“Good morning, Master Ori. Did you sleep well?”

The dwarf blushed and nodded.

“Wonderful,” she smiled, trying to set him at ease, anymore of this and the nervousness would start to catch, “Perhaps you could help me finish preparing breakfast?” she asked.

He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Of course, Mistress Baggins. What can I do to help?”

She pointed him towards the cutlery and sent him off to set the table.

One by one the dwarves made and appearance and asked if they could be on any assistance for her to send them to the table only keeping the now beaming Ori to help.

She gave him platters piled high with the bacon, eggs and sausages to sit on the table along with some pitchers of water and the large pot filled with tea. She made quick work of the pancakes and sent Ori off with them while she collected some jars of preserves – tomatoes, pickles and some strawberry jam – that had avoided being eaten the night before thanks to being kept in a cupboard and not the pantry.

Everyone was now sitting at the table, staring wide eyed at the food when she sat the jars down.

Gandalf was the only one missing from the table as he was still by the fire.

“Help yourselves,” she told them.  

No one moved and a throat cleared.

“Not before you lass,” Balin told her.

But she was the host.

They continued to look at her.

_Oh botheration._

“Very well,” she sighed, quickly fetching a plate for herself from the kitchen and quickly spearing some sausage with a fork and spooning some scrambled egg onto her plate.

There was no space at the table.

Thorin she noticed had settled his scowling self at the head of the table once again.

_The nerve._

The scraping of chairs met her ears as the company clamoured once again to offer her a seat.

She shook her head.

“No gentlemen. Enjoy your breakfast. I will do well enough,” she told them and went to sit in the armchair and watched Gandalf smoke as she ate.

The noise of cutlery hitting plates came from the table.

“Is all settled with you, my dear?” Gandalf asked her, surprising her with his question.

“How do you…”

_Oh never mind._

“Yes,” she nodded once she had finished chewing on the last of her breakfast. “I have wrote letters for those who need them. I left them with Mr Greenhand this morning,” she mumbled.

Holman had been most worried about her sudden appearance so early. She had thankfully not woken him as he was at his front door readying his cart.

She had told him that she would be away for some time and asked him if he could see to Bag End.

He seemed to visibly shrink before her eyes as she told him and her heart sank with him.

“Of course Miss Bilbo, but you don’t mean you are going off with the Dwarves?”

She had quickly explained, wanting to leave as quickly as she could.

“I wrote you a letter too,” she pointed at the envelopes he was holding, “Detailing what I have asked of you, just in case anyone raises a fuss,”

“O’course miss. And I’ll see that they are delivered like you asked,”

“Very good,” Gandalf spoke, bringing her back to the here and now.

“Yes…well, I still have a few things to pack,” she went to the kitchen and rinsed of her plate before collecting the odds and ends she had been unable to pack the night before.

She was glad to see that the master bedroom looked almost untouched and the bed had been made. She wished she had the time to clean the sheets before leaving…

She collected two of the thickest waistcoats from the wardrobe and left the room before she gave into her tears. Her parents room always made her feel sad.

Her hands full of sewing kit, medicinal tea and waistcoat she went back into her room and went about packing them.

She exited her room several minutes later with her traveling clothes sling over her arm and after quickly checking that everyone was still eating their breakfast she ducked into the bathroom.

They had kept it tidy and although it was obvious the bath had been used it was clean.

She left the room a little while later, washed and ready for the journey ahead. The weather in the Shire was so mild she had few heavy clothes but she had found the thickest gown she possessed (packing one of the lighter ones) one of brown wool with green caps on the sleeves that ended at her elbows.

Returning to her room she neatly stored away the clothes she had been wearing and brushing her hair she pleated two long braids down her back. One she pinned in a bun above the other.

It did not take long for strands to escape and all too soon she was huffing bits of hair out of her eyes.

She went to finish the washing up to find that the dwarves had once again completed the task and the various pieces of furniture that had been moved about the night before were all back in there places.

She was relieved her home would not be left looking as though a gale had blown through it and made quick work of retrieving the plates from her room and setting them in their places in the cabinet.

Next she retrieved the very last things she needed from the cupboard in the hall. Her bedding roll. She hadn’t used the thing since her mother had passes and just holding it brought back such memories.

_Not now Bilbo._

Collecting her pack and closing her bedroom door without looking back she tied the roll to the top and set it by the door.

Next she wrapped a scarf about her neck and crossed it a her chest to tie behind her. She twisted her arms about to make sure she could still move and stood ready.

She was going on an adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry. I know I said that the quest would be starting in this chapter and some of you are getting a little frustrated about how long this is taking – SORRY – but it just didn’t feel right to me to launch straight into the journey as I had planned. I have been trying to write this chapter from the view of the journey beginning since I posted the last chapter and then I wrote it like this and it just flowed. SORRY SORRY SORRY. But I hope this has given you a little more insight into the characters and I did push on with it so the next chapter would be the journey. See, you can’t say I’m not good to you :)  
> I must admit I loved writing the little one on one with Gandalf and Bilbo as well as Bilbo being prepared to skewer one of the company if she feels the need.  
> Anyway. I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter and feedback would be wonderful.  
> Take care.


	14. Step Outside Your Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the first day begins and Bilbo says goodbye to Hobbiton

Chapter 14

**Bifur's Point of View**

Bifur felt as though they were the worse kinds of monsters as the company gathered around the door that led inside the hill and the little female locked it.

He found that he liked the small creature considerably more than he did most people after a first meeting. She had been generous with her food and had offered them all comfortable beds for the night – even if he did have to share with his two cousins – that were far above what they had been sleeping on during their journey here.

"Below orcs," he growled to his cousin who was straightening out his hat on his head. The usually happy and light-hearted dwarf nodded his head slowly in agreement.

"Aye m'lad, we are that. But the little one has made her choice," Bofur told him glancing towards the Hobbit at her round door and then looking away again to fuss over his pockets. No doubt checking that he had packed the pipe-weed they had been given leave to take,

Bifur chose to ignore him after that.

**Bofur's Point of View**

Bofur couldn't look the little mistress in the eye all morning. After sleeping off the false cheer produced by the ale and good food, guilt weighed down heavy on him as he remembered his loose words of the night before.

He could have terrified the little thing as he made a joke of the dragon – something that was no laughing matter.

As it stood, in the light of day he did not like what they were doing.

They had no business coming into the little creature's home to drag her off to be eaten – because there was surely no other ending to the burglar's tale – by Smaug...

But then, no one had asked him what he thought.

**Balin's Point of View**

Balin watched with a heavy heart as Bilbo Baggins locked her door, her shoulders sagging slightly, only to pause, unlock the door once again and dash inside.

The door was left wide open and the key still in the lock otherwise he would have thought she had changed her mind.

He ushered the others away from the door and onto the path and they stood awkwardly at the garden gate waiting for her to return. The company shifted about restlessly. He knew that they were all more than ready to set off and after the breakfast that had been provided for them he knew they would be able to travel a fair distance before needing to stop for lunch. Several minutes passed by in silence with nothing but the gentle rustling of the leaves and the tweeting of the birds to break it when Thorin's delicate patients snapped. Balin was surprised it took as long as it did.

"Gandalf," he turned to the wizard who was leaning on his staff and appeared to be looking at nothing and yet at everything and had been so silent that Balin had very nearly forgotten about his presence, "We have delayed long enough. The Halfling can catch up with us,"

Balin felt a twinge of disappointment in his old pupil and leader. After all, Miss Baggins was leaving behind her home to aid them, the least he could do was give her time to see to her home and set things in order.

As it turned out there was no need to go anywhere as the Hobbit came dashing back through her front door clutching…string in one hand and her key in the other. Her pockets –he hadn't even realised the skirt had them – were bulging with something undiscernible. She locked her door for the second time and turned to face them, slipping the key on its chain around her neck as she did so and walked to the gate, closing it with a definite click behind her.

"Sorry," she mumbled to her bare feet before lifting her head and focusing on the wizard, "Gandalf, I just need to take my key to Mr Greenhand and then we can be on our way," she paused, obviously not comfortable with being the centre of attention.

"I can catch up if you like, I won't take very long," she told him.

Balin cut in quickly before Thorin had the chance to tell her that she could do just that. He may be his king but the lad's diplomacy and tact were lacking. Besides, they were a company and if they could not set out as such on this, the first stretch of their journey, then it would bode ill for the rest of the quest.

"No need lassie. Do what you need to and we will wait for you," he told her, smiling as reassuring as he could as her eyes met his.

A timid smile flickered across her own lips and she nodded her head.

"Mr Greenhand's home is just a way down the hill, we will be passing it by," she told him.

He stepped to the side with a little bow and waved her along.

"Lead the way," he smiled.

Balin's smile stretched wider as her eyes twinkled and her nose wrinkled with a silent laugh as she walked head of them and down the slight hill.

**Thorin's Point of View**

Thorin walked behind the Hobbit, burning up inside with shame at what he had allowed to happen the night before. He should have dragged the company from the Hobbit's home as soon as he had entered it and learned that the burglar was a female. A soft, fragile, sheltered female.

But he hadn't. And now that same female was journeying with them to Erebor.

He had hoped things would appear better in the light of day. But they had not. Instead all the morning light did was allow him to see the Hobbit more clearly than he had been able to the night before by the flickering light offered by the candles and lamps.

She was a tiny little thing, small by Dwarf standards it was true, but there was a healthy softness to her and although according to his people her body was small there was nothing unappealing about the shapely dip of her waist and curve of her hip that was hugged by the heavy (but not quite enough) wool of her dress. Shapely legs could be clearly seen from the calf down to where they tapered off to larger than necessary bare feet covered in hair the same colour as the golden locks that fell down her back in a thick braid.

He expected her to fall over her own shadow any second but she never did, moving with a grace he would never expect from having such ungainly feet.

Thorin was most confused by the Hobbit.

It was obvious that she must live with others. Her home was large enough to adequately fit thirteen Dwarves, one wizard and a Hobbit after all, so it was obviously a family dwelling and he had spent the night sleeping in a room that had been influenced by male and female tastes…and yet she seemed to consult no-one over the quest.

Gandalf had spoken of being friends with her mother. So where was she, or the father. Had the bedroom he had spent the night in been her own room? In which case, where was her husband. Or did it belong to her parents? In that case where were they? It had been far too well-kept for no one to occupy it.

He stopped walking at a small fence as the burglar let herself in through the small painted gate and walked up the path. This home was not like hers which burrowed into the hill. Instead the majority of it seemed to be outside the small hump of land that sat behind it.

Balin came up beside him and placed his hand on his arm.

"Allow the lass her goodbyes, Thorin," his advisor spoke softly, his old eyes appearing wearier than usual. The journeying was taking it out of his old friend.

He sighed.

Neither of them were as young as they once were. And yet, he found it difficult to remember ever being as young and care-free as his nephews, the wait of succession had always weighed upon his shoulders and then the responsibility of relocating his people. He was glad that Fili and Kili had never had to experience what he had, but he feared they would not complete this journey unscathed.

Balin squeezing his arm drew him from his thoughts and he nodded his head with a grunt.

Thorin had hoped that if they left early enough, before she rose, that the Hobbit would have changed her mind upon finding them gone and remained in her warm and safe home. But she had not. Instead she had risen well before even him and had a breakfast prepared and ready for them.

A male's voice drifted to them and he glanced towards the house to see Miss Baggins removing her key from about her neck and handing it to a Hobbit who was standing in the doorway.

He recognised the voice as that of the gardener who had called the night before and he was shaking his head wildly as she pressed the key into his hands.

The rest of the company stopped their conversations and the sudden silence allowed them to make out some of the conversation between the two Hobbits.

"…ain't right you being alone with them," the man was telling her, shoving the key into his pocket with little thought and concentrating wholly on the Hobbit woman.

"All will be well, Mr Greenhand. Gandalf will no doubt prove to be a marvellous protector," Miss Baggins' told him sounding pretty convincing.

Thorin bristled at the other Hobbit's suspicious thoughts towards his company. None of them would even think of harming the female or laying unwanted hands on her. And even if they did Thorin would not tolerate it.

The man looked down at them all gathered at his fence and scoffed.

"Aye, the old wizard could always turn them into snails I suppose," he acknowledged.

"And set them on your cabbages Holman Greenhand," the wizard muttered under his breath from somewhere behind Thorin.

A small giggle drifted to them from the Hobbit as she patted the man on his arm.

"Do not worry so Mr Greenhand. I shall return in good time and I would be most grateful if you kept those who have no business at Bag End out as much as it is in your power to do so,"

"Aye, don't you worry Miss, the Sackville-Baggins' won't be getting anywhere near the door as long as I am on watch,"

"My thanks, Mr Greehand," the Hobbit stepped forward and embraced the older man who seemed shocked at first but then his own arms closed around her and he squeezed.

Thorin's gut churned once more. This was not right.

Curse the wizard and his plans.

The key left in the gardeners apparently trustworthy keeping their burglar joined them once more.

**Dwalin's Point of View**

The first few hours of their journey to Bree upon leaving the Shire had been quiet and oppressive. Even Fili and Kili had remained silent until they had snapped and started acting like the young idiots they were.

Dwalin did not know what had been keeping the rest of the company so deep in thought but he knew what was keeping him so.

Guilt.

A night's sleep and a good breakfast had dulled (only slightly) his anger towards the wizard but it had only been sharpened to a murderous point once more as he watched the Hobbit lock up her home and leave it in the care of a gardener of all people. It made no sense to him that she had no protector. Where was her family? The parents that Gandalf was always making cryptic comments about? To see her so alone and with no one to stand at her side made him uncomfortable and edgy. There was not even a suitor in the picture from what he could gather. After all if there was surely they would be glued to the lass at the hip and have a word or two to say about her taking off with a bunch of scruffy travel worn dwarves. Everyone in the company (bar the wizard) was with family, except for their little burglar.

They had been on the receiving end of a look or two as they left Hobbiton and it seemed as though their newest member was on nodding terms with everyone but no one asked her where she was going or for how long.

Dwalin did not like this one little bit.

Once the spell of silence had passed any awkwardness at suddenly having a woman thrown into their little company was thankfully lessened by the wizard manipulating most of her time and attention as they walked the path to Bree.

As they trod the miles leading away from Hobbiton Dwalin could hear Gandalf asking after the goings on of the various families. Wedding, deaths, births, courtships, family disputes…So many familes were mentioned that Dwalin's head was spinning. Tooks, Brandybucks, Sackville-Baggins', Greenhands, Gaffers (although he couldn't quite tell if that was a person or a family name), Gamgees…The names rolled off Bilbo's tongue as she told the wizard (and by extension some of the company) all about the new engagements several deaths and even more births.

Dwalin was slack jawed to learn that in the past five years she had apparently gained almost seven cousins (several times removed and on different branches of the family tree), what with one being due in the autumn.

The little Hobbit seemed content to stay by Gandalf and remained shy of the rest of the company. The company for their part kept their distance and Dwalin tried not to dwell on it. He had enjoyed how she had looked to him the night before when the others had burst upon the scene, seeking reassurance. Until the blasted wizard made an appearance and then her eyes had constantly found Gandalf…

"Poor lass is no doubt feeling out of sorts," Balin told him, coming up to stand next ot him as the settled for a rest some hours past noon.

Dwalin looked up from where he had been fussing with his pack and automatically sought out the 'lass' on question.

There she was, perched on an overturned tree stump, still talking with the wizard, smiling and gesturing wildly. Gandalf was smiling in genuine amusement as he puffed on his pipe – the damn thing never seemed to run out.

Dwalin grunted in acknowledgment of his brothers words and went back to his pack.

The lass didn't even have decent clothing.

She was wearing a woollen dress that seemed fine for a stroll around the Shire on a chilly day but hardly suitable for the rigors and unpredictable weather of travel. Over it she wore some kind of waistcoat that he was certain was too large for her – and he only knew she was wearing that because he had seen her slip it on – and over that, a red jacket – another item that seemed too large for her – that looked to be more of a decoration than a source of warmth.

He would keep his eye on her. It would not do to lose their burglar from cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello m'darlin's.
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this chapter. It didn't go exactly as I had planned but for some reason Bifur and Bofur wanted to talk so I let them :) And then Thorin and Balin sort of happened. I had intended this to be just Dwalin but it didn't seem right.
> 
> Poor Dwalin is feeling a little jealous of Gandalf. The big teddy bear .
> 
> I would love to know what you thought of Thorin's bit. I wasn't too sure about it but I think it turned out ok.
> 
> PS, next chapter we are in Bree, ponies are purchased and a new character makes a brief appearance (psssst he's a Ranger :))


	15. Journey to Bree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company head to Bree for ponies and supplies. Bilbo meets an old friend.

**Chapter 15**

**Bilbo's Point of View**

They spent the night under the stars a few miles from the river and she watched with some apprehension as they set up camp with a well-practised ease. She stood out of the way twiddling the brass buttons of her father's velvet coat. The coat was comically large on her and she knew she would have to take out the seams and tuck it in several places when she had the time but it was warm and she hoped the dark colour would last through the messiness of travel.

The large dwarf – Bombur, she reminded herself – seemed to be the Company cook if the large pot and utensils he was carrying on his back was anything to go by, but there was no warm food for dinner and she inwardly sagged as a handful of dried meat was thrust at her by the –  _Bifur, Bilbo, Bifur. You have to stop thinking of them by their looks and start remembering their names._

Bilbo shot him a small smile and thanked him. He grumbled something in a gruff language and stalked off with purpose back towards Bombur.

She tore her gaze from the Dwarves and looked down at the meat questioningly for a few seconds before her stomach took over and she chewed at the tough strips. It made her jae ache.

If this was what they had been eating before they reached Bag End Bilbo was no longer surprised by the ferocity in which they had attacked her pantry and stripped it bare.

She finished her dinner – if it could be called that – resolved herself to the idea of going to sleep while feeling peckish and curled up in her blanket by Gandalf who sat with his back against a fallen tree smoking his pipe.

She gazed sleepily into the fire that someone had lit while she was chewing and watched the flames dance in the dimming light.

Bilbo fell asleep to the feel of a large, gnarled hand stroking her hair. She liked that.

The second day of travel to Bree was very much like the first although Bilbo would admit she was aching an awful lot more than the day before. Hobbits were not made for sleeping on the ground – well,  _this_  Hobbit definitely wasn't.

_Oh dear._

And she had goodness knew how long to get through of nights just like that. She was going to be hobbling around like the Thain by the end of the week.

After being woken at the crack of dawn by a bellow to "Get yourselves up," courtesy of the gruff Dwalin - softened by the nod he sent her way as she struggled to her feet – she was once again handed some of the leather tough dried meat. If this was going to be the standard of food until they reached their destination she would start planning the mutiny now. She comforted herself with the fact that they were heading to Bree and hoped better food would be acquired there. Nothing fancy. Just enough to make a nice stew maybe.

It wasn't her fault that she was focused on her stomach. She hadn't really managed a proper supper the last night at home what with everything that was happening and had been less than enthusiastic at breakfast the morning after.

She was regretting that.

Bilbo stuck close to Gandalf just as she had the first day as she tried to find exactly where she fit in the little group.

It was obvious that the Company was close and yet here she was, a stranger, suddenly making an appearance with no roll to fill but to sneak into a mountain – there were leagues between her and her 'job' and she wasn't sure just what she was supposed to do between times. She hoped they didn't expect her to pick the pockets of fellow travellers as they went along. Stealing back a mountain from a squatter (she had tried to forget the dragon part although she slipped up more than she succeeded) was one thing but pilfering from the innocent was something she would never be able to talk herself into.

Gandalf's questions about the Shire helped to keep her mind off her discomfort – she could never remember feeling so uncomfortable for being who she was before – and she happily walked beside him, answering his queries and grasping onto any topic the wizard raised. They had exhausted the rearrangements of the Shire's family trees through marriages, deaths and births during the first day of travel and she spent some time during the second morning telling him of the few amusing family squabbles that had broken out over stolen recipes and sabotaged vegetables during the last Hobbiton fare. The same fare (she informed him proudly) that won her first prize for her tomatoes. Once she had finished silence had fallen between them and she took the time to study the Company.

From what she could tell everyone was part of a family. Or if not a family then close friends – always in groups of two or three.

Bombur, Bifur and Bofur all seemed to stick together when Bofur – who really was quite a cheery chap – wasn't joking around or telling some story that set him at the centre of things. She couldn't understand the language that they were speaking but from what she could tell it was the only one Bifur  _could_ speak. She hoped he hadn't taken offence at her thanks the night before and then lack of response to his own words.

The two younger Dwarves who had shown up at her door together –  _Fili and Kili, Fili and Kili –_ never seemed to be apart and always had their heads together. Where one was, it was a fair assumptions, the other wasn't too far away.

Then there was the trio whom she was sure were related. Ori, Nori and Dori. The brotherly scolding the youngest member of their little group was always on the receiving end of left little room for doubt in her mind that they were related. Whenever the more rotund of the trio wasn't fussing over the youngest the sharp eyed copper haired brother was scolding him to "Leave Ori be, he can't get into any bother just walking, Dori,". Although the way that Ori always seemed to have his head buried in a book she marvelled that he hadn't walked into a tree yet.

Then came Balin and Dwalin, the only two who had been introduced to her as related. They did not walk together as much as they were always aware of the others location – which was usually not too far away from Thorin at the head of the group.

So there they all were, linked my race, blood and purpose.

And there she was linked by, well, she supposed she had the purpose although she couldn't claim to have a fixed interest in it…

Nope, she had nothing that could possibly help to bond her with these dwarves. Except for the signed contract.

_Well, Bilbo my lass, I suppose you'll just have to find something._

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin sympathised with the lass as she moved stiffly during their third day of walking but he knew she would grow accustomed to the sleeping arrangements quickly enough. He wondered if she had any experience with ponies.

She was a decent little traveller, who didn't complain despite her obvious discomfort but he wondered how long it would take for her to begin to drift away from the safety she felt the wizard offered and begin to mingle with the rest of the company.

Bifur seemed to have taken a shine to her which had been a surprise to all of them.

" _Aye, always had a soft spot for little things have you no Bifur,"_ his playful cousin had said by way of explanation. A grow had been the reply but the injured Dwarf had not denied it and had continued to trudge over to the Hobbit with a handful of the dried meat.

A morning of solid walking brought them to Bree just as the town crier went past ringing his hand bell and announcing that it had just gone two in the afternoon. Upon entering the town Balin was issued with the task of acquiring lodgings at the Prancing Pony, while Dwalin and the rest of the Company trailed along behind Gandalf and Thorin to find the ponies. Dwalin was not happy with his brother going off alone but he knew he could take care of himself and Gandalf thought that having thirteen dwarves suddenly standing at his bar and demanding rooms would not go down well with the landlord and Balin was the most diplomatic of them all.

Once all was to be found in order at the stables Thorin gave Bombur food duty and the large Dwarf went off to purchase provisions for the road along with Bofur and Nori.

_Who better to guard against thieves than an actual thief?_

Dwalin was just waiting for the middle of the brothers Ri to get them all into trouble at some leg of the journey. It was just a matter of waiting. And Dwalin was very patient.

**Bilbo's Point of View**

Men, in Bilbo's experience, were always in such a rush. She could count on one hand the number of times she had visited the town of Bree with her mother and the hustle and bustle of the place had always been a surprise to her. Of course Hobbits could hurry just as much as the next person but Men never seemed to stop. She was amazed that they did not wear themselves out with their constant barging about. It was quite unnatural for a body to be on the go so much, she was certain.

Bilbo made sure to always stay in the wake of one of the Dwarves lest she be knocked over or trodden on by one of the many big-folk dashing about. They were so set on their own tasks that she doubted her being knocked to the ground would earn even a raised eyebrow. They would probably just step over her and continue on their way. She planted herself firmly behind Dwalin and walked in the path he effortlessly carved through the crowd.

It was, Bilbo decided, a wonderful arrangement.

They had secured the ponies for the rest of the journey – traitorous foul tempered animals, she remembered being bitten by one as a child – and were now returning to the safety of the Prancing Pony.

Despite the sunny day outside, inside the Prancing Pony was dim with a cloud of stagnant smoke hovering near the ceiling and growing thicker from the countless lit pipes. Eyes from beneath hoods and caps fastened on them and Bilbo clenched her fists and locked her knees in an attempt to not fidget under the many gazes. Unlike the streets outside, the occupants of the inn appeared to be having no problem with doing nothing. Balin was still negotiating with the landlord and when she glanced about to find Gandalf the wizard was nowhere to be found.

No help from that quarter then.

She edged her way through the company until she stood at Balin's back, unabashedly eavesdropping into the conversation. Negations seemed to be on the way for the reimbursement for any furniture damaged during their stay. She very nearly laughed out loud at this. It seemed that Dwarves had a bit of a reputation.

After some time the landlord had finally agreed to the renting of rooms and upon catching sight of Bilbo had announced that he had some mighty nice wee-rooms available for the little mistress to choose from, right near the ground, just like a Hobbit likes.

Balin had frowned slightly at this but agreed to the extra room for Bilbo.

_I jolly well hope he hadn't expected me to be sharing with one of the company._

Sleeping with the company in the open air was one thing but in a room was something completely different.

Accommodation a meal and breakfast paid for the company made themselves as much at home in the common room of the inn as they had in her dining room.

Bombur, Bofur and Nori arrived with the provisions needed and settled themselves with the rest of the company but there was still no sign of Gandalf.

Tankards of ale (pints! Bilbo noticed with wide eyes) were placed before the company and one of apple cider (at her request a smaller one) before Bilbo and still no sign of the wizard.

Bilbo was just about to ask if they should maybe go and find him when a large hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed.

"Bilbo my dear," she could hear Gandalf's voice clearly above the hum of the many voice, "I have found a friend of yours,"

She frowned at this when she saw the surprised looks on the faces of the company who faced her – Thorin looked especially murderous. She swivelled around in her chair to look at the wizard.

Gandalf stood there, none the worse for ware for his absence from their group, a knowing smile on his face.

"A friend Gandalf?"

He nodded his head slowly and stepped to the side.

**Dwalin's Point of View**

Dwalin shifted in his chair when he caught sight of the wizard coming towards there table through the smoke-fogged room. It wasn't Gandalf's appearance that had him on edge but the tall figure striding at his back, not far enough away to be a stranger and definitely close enough to be following the wizard's lead.

Keeping one hand with fingers lazily wrapped about his pint he moved his other to the hit of the dagger in his belt.

What was the wizard's game now?

He stopped just behind Bilbo who had been concentrating on her drink with an obvious discomfort at being left alone with them all and spoke to her.

The stranger had stopped behind Gandalf and only came clearly into sight once he had stepped aside with a flourish.

As Bilbo had turned away and he could not study her expression he fixed his gaze on the stranger.

The weapons where the first thing his war trained eyes came to rest upon.

The most obvious was the bow and the quiver of arrows but then he saw the sword peeking out from the folds of his cloak…

He was tall, of the race of Men. He was dressed in dark clothing, well-worn and cared for – she could see the places were the dark green cloak and soft leather had been carefully repaired. Blonde hair, so dark that it was almost brown, hung to just above his chin.

He had the look of someone who had travelled long and far and Dwalin had no doubts that he had more weapons upon him than were visible. This Man had the look of a solitary traveller to him and you did not travel alone through Middle Earth without having more than one dagger up your sleeve.

The Man's eyes that had appeared hard and steely at first had softened and had not left the lass's face.

Dwalin resisted the urge to stand and grab her back when Bilbo slid from her chair with a whispered "Halbarad," and threw her arms around the man who had dropped to his knees with a smile and returned the embrace.

When he glanced around the table he was glad to note that he was not the only one frowning.

**Some time later**

They sat as a group in a corner of the common room of the Prancing Pony. The company had relaxed more both in language and posture since Bilbo had gone to wash-up before dinner and the Man had left to do the same thing – in his own room! Dwalin may have followed him - and more than a few bawdy jokes had circled the table as the ale loosened tongues. Tongues that had better start behaving again as soon as the lass came back.

Dwalin nursed his second pint. They were not in the cosy dining room of Bag End and it would not do for all of them to be falling-down-drunk in a strange place and he would not have them all wake up from a drink induced coma to find they had been robbed. So Dwalin had decided to be the one to keep his wits about him – as had Thorin, but then their leader was never one for risking being out of control on any occasion.

Silence fell over them all when a shadow fell over the table.

It was the Man, the ranger… _what was his name?_

"Halbarad, join us," Gandalf invited, gesturing to the chair that Bilbo had left some time before.

Dwalin grunted into his pint, committing the name to memory and kicked Nori's booted foot from the where it had been resting on the seat.

The thief glowered at him but said nothing, going back to staring at the Man. Dwalin realised from the sharp glare that the thief wasn't as far into his cups as he was acting.

After the fierce embrace between Bilbo and the stranger and introductions had been made Gandalf had explained that he had known Halbarad for some time, as had Bilbo. Dwalin could read between the lines. They were being told to behave themselves.

Unfortunately Gandalf's constant presence at the table even after the Hobbit and Man's departure had meant they could not speak of them.

Halbarad sat down without saying a word or making a sound and placed his own pint onto the table. It was eerie how silently the Ranger moved, his well-worn leather clothing didn't even creak as he shifted in the seat.

He leaned back in the seat and stared at the wizard.

No one spoke and Dwalin just continued to drink from his cup. He knew the look of someone who had something on his mind.

"I do not think Belladonna would be thankful for you putting her daughter in jeopardy, Mithrandir," the ranger finally spoke.

Dwalin wondered vaguely just what a 'ranger' was? Gandalf had dropped it in during the introduction but it meant nothing to him or the rest of the company by the lack of reactions.

The silence that had fallen over the company turned tense at the words and Dwalin returned his pint to the table. He made no sudden movements but he readied himself for anything. He looked to Thorin who met his eye and shook his head ever so slightly.

So, they were to leave this up to the wizard were they?

Gandalf made no reply, only continued to pull at his pipe and breathe out the smoke. Steadily and deeply. Dwalin hated the wizard's aloofness.

"The world outside the Shire is no place for one such as she," the Man growled.

A coldness filled Dwalin and several of the company shifted in their seat. Their guilt had been softened with the ale but now their doubts resurfaced. They all had their reservations over the Hobbit and this Man reminded them of it in one sentence. More than one pint met the wood of the table and pushed away. Dwalin knew they had all just sobered up a lot quicker than he had ever thought possible.

After what seemed like a lifetime Gandalf removed the pipe from his mouth and spoke.

"She has made her decision," the Man scoffed at this but Gandalf continued undeterred, "perhaps you should abide by this,"

"Bilbo would jump into the Mountain of Doom if it would help someone," he hissed, "You know this and you take advantage,"

Dwalin tensed as the Halbarad's eyes left Gandalf and flicked over the company. He took them all in, measuring them up for the second time since their meeting. Dwalin had a feeling he found them lacking. He turned his assessing eyes back to the wizard.

"And for what? Erebor is lost and what use does she have for gold?"

Halbarad had struck Dwalin as a collected type, not quick to anger but he could see the man growing more agitated with each passing word. And just how did he know what they were doing?

"What does a Hobbit care for jewels and coins," he spat and Dwalin wondered, not for the first time, just what bond linked this Man with the little creature who had signed on to be their Burglar.

He had seen the way the Man's harsh features had softened when he spoke with Bilbo and the affectionate smile that had crinkled his hard eyes. This was not someone they wanted as an enemy.

"Your regard for Bilbo does you credit Halbarad," Gandalf spoke softly, calmly, calculated, "But need I remind you that Bilbo is of age to make her own decisions-" the Ranger made as if to speak but Gandalf swiftly raised his hand up, halting Halbarad before he could voice his thoughts, "-and you, my friend, are neither her father nor her husband, to dictate what she can do,"

The Company was silent, even when everyone was asleep Dwalin could not remember such silence from the group. All eyes were fixed on the pair who seemed to have forgotten all about the Company that shared their table.

Halbarad visibly tensed, his mouth a straight and his face pale and then flushed, one fist was clenched tightly on the table top the other gripping the wooden mug so fiercely that Dwalin was surprised it did not splinter.

Wait…

"… _you, my friend, are neither her father nor her husband, to dictate what she can do…"_

And then couple that with the withheld violence of his reaction…

So that was his game.

He was interested in the lass.

Dwalin was not sure how he felt about this. He had not known Bilbo long enough to warrant having an opinion but for some reason this Man's interest angered him. Years of toil and travel and taught him as well as any other who came from Erebor that Men were not to be trusted, they used and they manipulated – he could scarcely count the number of times payment for work had been refused during his time as a Smith.

If the Man was going to make any reply to that it would never be known as a smiling and glowing from a good wash, the Hobbit lass in question approached the table, so silently that none of them noticed her presence until she was standing beside Halbarad.

"Halbarad," he didn't even jump at Bilbo's sudden appearance, just turned slightly in his seat to give her his attention, "Are you joining us for dinner,"

Dwalin felt a twinge in his chest at the happy, hopeful smile quirked her lips and lifted his cup to his own and took a long gulp.

The sooner they were on the road again the better.

"If you wish it little one I will join you gladly,"

The lass looked to Thorin then, her eyes skimming over the company until she found him, the smile still firmly in place. She was looking for permission. Dwalin was surprised at this but he supposed he shouldn't have been. She was a polite little thing so it went to reason that she would seek consent from their leader.

What surprised Dwalin even more was that Thorin gave it.

"Wonderful," Bilbo clapped her hands.

Amazing. It seemed that they had a weapon in the Hobbit's smile. Maybe they should try aiming  _that_ at the dragon and he would just walk out of the mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone.
> 
> Soooo…it's been a while I know but I have been working on this chapter on and off since the before New Year and I just couldn't get it to come together. I think I have nailed it thought. Or at least as near to as I will be able to get.
> 
> I estimated the length of time it would take to get to Bree. So there is DAY 1 (the day Biblo runs out of her house), NIGHT 1 of camping, DAY 2, NIGHT 2 of camping and then reaching Bree on DAY 3 of walking.
> 
> And then there is Halbarad. This Halbarad is a (made up) relative of the Halbarad who fought during the War of the Rings but not the same one. Ok, explanations over.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. :


	16. At the Prancing Pony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see more of Halbarad, Dwalin gets protective and finally the quest gets under-way.

**I still own nothing :(**

** Chapter 16 **

** Bilbo's Point of View **

_Well, this is awkward._

Bilbo gripped the edges of her chair at either side of her and squeezed, if she kept her hands there then she wouldn't fiddle with them. So her mind was made up, until the food was put on the table her hands were staying exactly where they were.

She had interrupted something at the table with her arrival Bilbo was sure of it. The tension had been thick, syrupy and bitter in the air around the Men and Dwarves. She didn't know what they could have possibly found to disagree about in the short time that she had been gone.

Thorin was frowning. But then again he seemed to do nothing else and frowned at the company as much as he did at strangers. She had never known someone's moods to be so hard to gauge before. Maybe he operated opposite to everyone else? Maybe frowning was his way of showing how happy he was? She would have to ask Gandalf if she should panic and run if she ever saw a smile on the moody royal's face.

So, as Thorin was obviously not a good choice to estimate moods on she scanned the rest of the company over.

They all looked a little put out if she was any judge.

Automatically her eyes went to Dwalin. Despite his frightening appearance he was still the only member of the group whose company she felt comfortable with. He was leaning back in his seat with his thick arms crossed over his chest and glowering at her friend. He must have felt her gaze on him because his own flickered from Halbarad to her. The hardness she saw there sent a chill through her but in the time it took her to blink his gaze had softened on her. She smiled weakly at him. She received no smile in return but she didn't need one. The steal leaving his eyes was enough for her.

Fili and Kili seemed to be trying their best to look anywhere but at her but were failing miserable, their eyes constantly dashing between her and Halbarad at her side. They leaned in close to one another and began to whisper conspiratorially, glowering in a way that made her wonder if they were in competition with Thorin.

Balin had a look of deep concentration on his face as he focused on his cup which he was clasping between his hands on the table, tapping his fingers along the wood in meditation. She wondered what thoughts had him so engrossed.

Bofur was frowning and speaking in rapid, hushed tones to Bifur who was also wearing a frown and focusing on Halbarad. He was letting out grunts of acknowledgment and nodding his head every now and then. Bombur interjected every few words with his own observations. It was unsettling to see Bofur so obviously agitated, as over the past few days he had seemed to be able to draw on a never ending supply of good cheer.

And then there was Ori, Nori and Dori. The youngest was wedged protectively between his two brothers and was patting at his many pockets in what looked like an attempt to find something. He wasn't having much luck. Dori was eyeing Halbarad with a heavily suspicious glare while Nori was less conspicuous about his dislike, but it was there all the same as he eyed Halbarad over the rim of his cup

What on earth had her old friend done to lead to such a reaction?

Her eyes swung to Gandalf. He was sitting as still as any statue; the only thing giving away any sign of life was the moving of his chest and the rhythmic release of smoke. He was gazing sightlessly at her and she doubted he was seeing her at all. He looked miles away.

Very well then, it looked like she would be getting no explanation from Gandalf.

The coward, she would wager her dinner he was doing it on purpose.

"How have your travels been, Halbarad?" she asked the Ranger, turning her attention from the strangely behaving Dwarves entirely.

If she couldn't get to the bottom of the tension she was more than ready to lose herself in any tales (tall or otherwise) that the Ranger could tell her.

"Long and tiring little one," he answered, smiling warmly at her and taking a gulp from his cup.

He did indeed look weary but just as strong as he had done when she was a child.

"I am sorry I did not make it to your party Bilbo…"

"Oh, it is no matter," she replied with a shrug of her shoulders and a smile.

It had been some years since she had last seen him and upon their last parting he had promised to try to make it back to Hobbiton in time for her coming of age. She had been disappointed when she had spied no tall figure among the guests at Brandy Hall but she had understood and did not hold his absence against him. From what she understood being a Ranger was not a simple occupation, it was a calling and deep down she had known he would not make it if circumstances required his presence elsewhere, the safety of many rested on the shoulders of but a few after all.

"It was just like any other party," she told him, choosing to not tell him about the throwing up at her cousin's feet episode. She had her pride after all.

"Now," she straightened and, without her permission, her fingers unlocked and her hands came free of the death grip on the chair and went for her lap.

"Tell me of your travels," he looked at her thoughtfully, tilting his head slightly, "Please?" she begged like the child she had once been.

A few seconds passed before he nodded his head in agreement.

"Aye little one, I will tell you of my journeys,"

She couldn't stop the beaming smile from exploding upon her face and she shifted closer to him and lost herself in Halbarad's voice, forgetting for a time about the journey before her, the dragon and the thirteen Dwarves sitting not too far away from her now.

** Dwalin's Point of View **

Dwalin sat in silence with his fellows and watched the Hobbit and the Man interact. The Hobbit was all smiles and the Ranger all softness and easiness with the lass – nothing at all like the hardened fighter he had portrayed while arguing with Gandalf and shooting them all looks to maim (except for the wizard, he looked like he would settle for nothing short of Gandalf's head).

He smiled and laughed with their burglar like an old friend – which Dwalin supposed he was. It was the question of how old and how friendly that niggled at Dwalin. It was none of his affair he reminded himself and would have focused on another conversation at the table if anyone else was talking. Bu they weren't. Everyone was too busy watching the same couple he was while maybe exchanging a comment or two under their breath.

So, they all sat, listening to the same stories of travel that Bilbo was – with much less enthusiasm it had to be admitted – until sometime later steaming bowls and plates of food were plonked unceremoniously onto the table by the landlord and his wife.

The arrival of the food brought silence to the only conversation and the company fell upon the food, snatching up plates from the pile brought to the table and helping themselves to the stew and bread – Bifur, Bilbo, the Ranger and Gandalf being the only ones to go near the steaming vegetables.

It was good, in that it filled his stomach, but nothing compared to what the little lass had provided during their stay in her home. Just the thought of some of the food that had come from her pantry had his mouth watering.

The warm food in empty bellies quickly led to sleepiness and one by one the company drifted off to their rooms the Hobbit being one of the first to excuse herself (Dwalin clenched his fists when the lass had given the Man a hug before leaving), followed swiftly by Ori – which meant Dori also – and Bifur – which meant Bofur and Bombur. After that Dwalin stopped paying attention. All he knew was that in hardly anytime at all he was left at the table with Balin, Thorin, Gandalf and the Ranger.

Gandalf and the Ranger conducted their own conversation in clipped but hushed tones while Dwalin and his companions observed through suspicious eyes.

**"What think you of this Ranger, brother?"** Dwalin rumbled to Balin eyeing the interloper distrustfully.

**"He is a Ranger, they are an honourable people, an old line,"** Dwalin did not know if his brother's knowledge came from books, gossip, or a first-hand encounter but he did not care either way.

He latched onto the one word. Honourable. While it did not entirely negate his worries in relation to their Burglar it did a fair bit to calm it.

**"Don't all men claim to be so?"** Thorin bit out harshly,  **"To listen to them tell it, all men are the descendants of some old and noble line, even if they do not live up to the memory ancestors in their own dealings,"**

There was nothing to say to this but to nod in agreement, Men had not treated them kindly after the fall of Erebor and the bitterness still ran deep.

They sat in silence and Dwalin, seeing no need to interrupt it, used it to his advantage and never let his eyes waver from the pair at the opposite end of the table.

Whatever they were talking about had both men gesturing wildly and the wizard had even resorted to waving his pipe around, the smoke trailing lazily in its wake, until reaching his breaking point, the Ranger stood swiftly from his chair, the legs scraping across the scuffed floor and stalked away without once glancing back.

Dwalin tensed, honourable or not the man was a stranger to all but Gandalf and the Hobbit…

Dwalin stood, shot out a good night to his brother and king, grunted at Gandalf as he stamped past and followed the Man, the general noise of the common room hiding his closeness and then his own care when they entered the halls that lead to the rooms on the ground floor. Dwalin had to pull himself up short and duck out of sight when to his surprise – or not – Halbarad came to a door and instead of walking straight in he knocked.

Several minutes of silence crept by and Dwalin thought for a moment that the Man was going to give up on receiving any answer when the door swung open an inch and then all the way.

A dishevelled sleepy eyed Bilbo Baggins stood framed by the door and wrapped in her scarlet jacket. Dwalin felt the heat rise to his cheeks at the sight of her sleep softened face. The morning at Bag End she had been awake long before any of them and then during the few days travel to Bree she had stayed close to the wizard. This was the first time he had seen her so and by his beard she was a pretty sight. The light from the torches and candles dotted about the hall danced across her slight form. Dwalin was no poet – he left that to the scribes – but he was certain the flickering flames were turning her hair to gold. A living, growing, silky smooth gold… He shook his head. Thoughts of Erebor were muddling his brain.

"Halbarad," her voice was thick with sleep, "is everything alright?"

"I wanted to talk to you, Bilbo," the man told her and Dwalin wanted to inform the Ranger that wither he wanted to talk or not it was not fitting to show up at a lasses door in such a way. He pushed away the memory of him doing the same thing several nights before and comforted himself with the knowledge that they had all been misled by Gandalf into thinking she was a he.

"Oh, um, alright," she sounded a little surprised but was losing the thick sound of sleep with each word she spoke.

Much to Dwalin's relief the Hobbit stepped from the room and into the silent hall closing the door behind her. She stood with her arms folded across her body, hugging the jacket to her and looked up at the man.

Dwalin breathed as silently as he could and remained out of sight around the corner of the wall, he contented himself with leaning slightly past the corner just enough to see what was happening.

"Bilbo, this quest," the Ranger very nearly spat the word, "will be dangerous, you could be hurt," he lowered himself to his knees as he spoke, leaving less room than Dwlain would have liked between himself and the Hobbit.

The Hobbit stood there and nodded her head.

"Yes, I know," she replied, her face serious and then an impish smile lifted her lips, "I got that idea when a fire breathing, mountain stealing dragon was mentioned

"Bilbo-"

"Halbarad," the Hobbit's soft but determined voice brought the Man to a halt, "I…I know that you are only concerned and worried about me,"

Dwalin watched as the lass's arms dropped from around her middle and she gripped one of the Ranger's hands in her own small ones.

"And I thank you for that, it has been a long time since anyone has cared enough to worry-" Dwalin's heart lurched as Bilbo visibly took a deep breath and gulped, "But my mind is made up,"

"Bilbo-"

Again Halbarad was interrupted.

"Nothing you say can change my mind, Halbarad,"

"Bilbo, you could be hurt, killed even in just the journey. I do not want you hurt for such a cause as this,"

_Such a cause as what?_

Dwalin felt the insult boiling his blood. It was true that he would rather that Bilbo not be placed in danger. It was not their way to endanger women. But she had made up her mind and they had to accept that and honour her decision. Already within a couple of days she was fitting into the company, after a week or so of travel it would be like she had always been there.

The Hobbit stiffened.

"I have given my word, Halbarad, and I will help them reclaim their home," she spoke harshly, but guilt flooded her face moments later.

"I am sorry, I don't want to argue with you when it has been so long since I have seen you,"

The Ranger shook his head sadly from side to side and let out a sigh loud enough for Dwalin to hear from his hiding spot.

"I should have remembered how stubborn you can be when you set your mind on something,"

Dwalin could make out the little smile on Bilbo's face.

"I had to try," Halbarad spoke softly, sadly.

"I know… Thank you my friend," Bilbo murmured just loud enough for Dwalin to hear and no louder.

"Go to bed little one. I am sorry for disturbing your rest," the Man moved to stand but Bilbo had launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. The Man returned it, engulfing the little frame in his arms and pressed a kiss to the Hobbit's forehead when she pulled away.

"Rest well," he spoke into her skin.

Dwalin stayed where he was as the Man stood and the Hobbit returned to her room and shut the door softly behind her, the soft draft causing the candles to waver before settling once more.

"I hope, Master Dwarf," Dwalin flinched as Halbarad walked towards him and readied himself for a confrontation that might require his axes, "that you learned all you wished to know,"

He turned the corner and Dwalin looked up into the face of the Ranger, the Ranger who had somehow drawn a dagger without him seeing it and was now idly twirling the hilt between his fingers, contemplatively.

"I have known Bilbo Baggins since she was a child…" he trailed off and Dwalin moved slightly away from the wall to give himself better access to Grasper and Keeper, if he made one wrong move with that dagger Dwalin would have his head.

The Ranger's gaze lifted from the dagger and met Dwalin's.

"I would be in you debt, Master Dwarf, if you would watch over her…where I cannot," he spoke with a bone deep sincerity.

Dwalin had expected threat of death, maiming even, but not this.

He froze for a second. It was no hard thing to agree to do something he had already sworn in his heart to do.

"Aye, you have my word," he found himself saying, "I will keep her safe,"

The Ranger merely nodded his head and continued on his way.

Dwalin shook his head in amused disbelief and chuckled softly to himself as he made his way to his own room.

_Of all the things…_

** Bilbo's Point of View **

The day dawned bright and crisp, the slight mist hovering over the fields burning away by midmorning until the sun shone unhindered.

Breakfast – a simple affair but hot – was eaten in silence by the still bleary eyes company and Bilbo suspected that more than one of them was suffering the ill effects of one too many pints the night before. She tried to muster some sympathy but as they had done it to themselves she couldn't find much pity for them. She was feeling a little groggy herself, after Halbarad's unexpected visit to her door the night before it had taken her a long time to get back to sleep. She regretted being so sharp with him but she had made up her mind and that was that.

She was glad to see him sitting in one of the darker corners of the common room but stayed away from him. If he wanted to speak to her he would seek her out.

After breakfast the bags were collected and the ponies readied for the journey and it wasn't until she was leaving the Prancing Pony that Halbarad left his seat and approached her. She stopped and stood aside to not get in the way of the Dwarves behind her.

Bilbo smiled up at the Ranger, not knowing what to say.

"Please take care of yourself, Bilbo," Halbarad finally broke the silence between them.

"I will," she whispered back.

"You will have some exciting stories to tell me when you return," he smiled at her softly.

"I…I hope so,"

He leaned down and Bilbo threw her arms around him as she had the night before, hugging him tightly, breathing in his outdoors and leather smell and rubbing her face against his cloak, the wool was rough against her skin.

She pulled away and breathed deeply, fighting back the tears that burning at the back of her eyes.

"Safe journey, little one,"

Bilbo had enjoyed sleeping in a proper bed (a perfectly sensible Hobbit sized piece of furniture) the night before, but she was beginning to question the wisdom in doing so and was already dreading the coming night and the hard ground.

The company as a whole was a rather subdued bunch as they trudged single file from Bree and she put it down to them being told by Thorin that the ponies should be led for the first half of the day.

Bilbo didn't mind that plan and spent most of her time eyeing her own pony with suspicion.

"As docile as a lamb, miss," Bofur had assured her as they left the town. Bilbo hadn't even dignified that comment with a reply, deciding that the Dwarf had obviously never seen lambs jumping around a field when the mood took them. Well, she did not want to be on  _this_ lamb's back when it decided to get energetic. No thank you. Any animal taller than herself should expect to be treated with such suspicion. Blasted animal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo…I feel like there was a lot of he said, she said, they said, in this chapter which is bugging me a little (ok a lot) but it wasn't really dialogue I felt I could skim over…I hope I made the right call there and it wasn't too bitty for you guys to read.
> 
> Anhoo, yay! They are finally of on the Quest to evict Smaug! Bet you were all thinking I'd never get the show on the road. :)
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this.
> 
> Might get to the trolls in the next chapter
> 
> :)
> 
> PS. There is a bonus(ey) chapter on my tumblr that is a continuation of weaponising Bilbo's smile. Once the Burglaress is finished it will be slotted into the end. But at the moment you can find it here and I would really like to know what you think of it (It is pure silliness I will admit ;))- griffinquillsandoctopusink . tumblr . com


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